This one is dedicated to my brothers of the road whose contact at critical times in the race carried me to a triumphant conclusion. Going into the race I wouldn't have imagined a 4:02 would feel so triumphant, but it sure feels like it now. This one is also dedicated to aqua vita, the water of life. Cool, clear, water-- essential lubricant. And to Karen, my new marathon training partner. Running a marathon takes about three months and involves a spectrum of factors.
This was my third marathon in a row that I ran through an injury. I think I'll allow myself to get completely heeled before my next one-- Milwaukee, no doubt. I began training for Chicago near the end of July with a 20 miler on the Lake Front. I struggled a little at 16-18 but had a great sub 3 h run. As the rate of training picked up so too the heat. Three of my 20's were run at 85 degrees or hotter. Whew! The last one was in late August, it was 95, I neared Lawrence Ave, got very light headed and decided not to go the whole way. I drank as much as I could stand, then ran back to North Ave beach to the car. Karen had dived out after 10-- wisely so. I probably would've been OK, but the next day I ran a 5K in the heat and my knee started acting up. It seemed not to be the knee as much as the tendons around it and very tight hamstrings which were making it ache all day. I sat through a business meeting in Lexington, KY and had to massage it to make it stop aching. They all probably thought I was playing with myself under the table. When I stretched it would feel better immediately. Yoga to the rescue--downward dog stretched the whole hamstring and gave me temporary relief. I would've been OK had I just done that stretch, but instead I started to stretch standing up with leg straight out in front resting my heel at hip height, then bending over at the waist. It relieved the pain momentarily but I was stretching with my knee locked and soon after the run the ache would resume. It got so bad that I considered going to a doctor. So instead I asked Coach and he immediately diagnosed the problem: the deep hamstrings needed stretching and I was dehydrated. The dehydration caused a lack of lubrication which caused the joints and tendons to grind against each and cause the pain. He told me to stretch the hamstring with a bent knee and drink water. Almost immediately I experienced dramatic improvement and within 24 h the chronic ache ended. So between yoga, the modified stretch and drinking at least a gallon of water per day, I was able to resume my distance training. I was interested to hear that the famous Dallas Cowboys running back Emmet Smith had hurt his hamstrings due to lack of proper hydration-- aqua vita. I completed 2 more 20's, a 25K and half marathon in the next 4 weeks. I did great up through the Motorola half marathon, but the course was all on concrete, I ran a very hard second half and came out of it with my knee sore again. I really tapered for the next two weeks and came to marathon day well rested, stuffed with massive carbohydrates, and with no hint of pain.
Marathon Sunday dawned bright-- what glorious day it was! We thought we'd given ourselves plenty of time but arrived at Michigan Avenue and the Grant Park garage simultaneously with 5,000 other marathoners. Employing Cairoesque driving skills I maneuvered past the bulk of traffic and we slipped into the garage with minimal delay. Then the 5 of us made our way to the start. There was a large mob waiting for the Port-o-pots so we made that our first stop. By the time we got to the CARA tent it was 15 minutes before the race began. Marge the massage therapist was waiting for us but there was only time for one pre-race massage and I was the lucky winner. While the CARA crew queued up for their private pots, Marge laid it onto me. It was observed by those in line that I was indeed privileged to have my own private massage. No argument from me. Marge worked some astringent oil into my legs giving them a warm glow. A few miles into the race some of that astringence penetrated my tender parts and gave me quite a shock.
Steve Beaty and I decided to run the marathon together with a similar goal in mind. Our PR's were comparable and we both wanted to go under 3:50. It was very crowded and we got a slow start, running the first two miles at 12 minutes each. It wasn't until we made it to Lincoln Park that it loosened up. I was taking a very strategic approach, trying to keep my first several miles slow but Steve was anxious to push the pace, so we compromised and were averaging 8:45 pace by mile 5. It was such a lovely day. The early chill and brisk wind were not a factor near the park and the flowers and fountains were glistening in the bright morning sun. We went past Moody Bible College and the Historical Society, both architectural marvels, then rounded the corner at Belmont and Broadway about mile 6. What a sight! A group of men dressed in female cheerleader costumes were cheering, shaking their pom poms, urging us on. The water stop was manned by gents in white shirts, bow ties, offering us water cups on silver trays. At the end of the block a man and woman in tight skimpy black leather outfits were on a platform doing the grind to some funky music. The Front-Runners really distinguished themselves at their waterstop. We headed south with the Chicago downtown skyscrapers looming large before us. Down Clark then over to Wells, we curved around Wacker drive. Steve and I spontaneously broke into song. We croaked out James Brown's "I feel good" trading lyrics: "I feel good" "like I new that I would" "I feel fine" "All of the time" "I see the finish line" "Its all mine!" We were buoyant and feeling pretty good as we neared the mile ten water stop. The crowd of spectators and water stop workers filled the street. We took water and rounded the corner. The street was wet from spilled water, and the crowd so large it was like going through a funnel. It was in the shadow of the big buildings and was cold, especially as we rounded the corner and ran head on into the wind. It seemed like a dark shadow had crossed our sunny path. While heading on Adams west out of the loop Steve told me "that's my building Bucky" and I noted that no one has called me that since I was 11 years old. But somehow, it made me feel pretty good, and erased the dark mood that the mile 10 waterstop had created. We cleared the loop, and as we approach Greek town, I stepped on an imperfection in the road and twisted my knee. The pain shot up from my ankle to the knee which continued to ache for the next 8 miles. We continued to push the pace and the pain persisted. It was the first real challenge of the race, the stiff head wind, and the pain in my knee. It was as much of a psychological difficulty as physical because of the trouble my knee had given me during training. We continued to push the pace, averaging 8:20 for 10 and 11, then we made the turn and headed back east on Jackson towards our running club's own water stop. The Oak Park runners manning the stop looked very cold as they stood in the shadow of the Fanny Mae candy factory handing out water. We rounded back onto Halsted south and back into the sun. As we passed UIC at the halfway point Steve gave me a look over his shoulder and motored on.
My pace dropped off almost a minute per mile and the pain subsided. I revised my strategy and decided instead of negative splits and a fast middle, I would run steady, keep it comfortable and try to finish under 4 hours. Steve looked like he would break 3:50 at the pace he was holding. It had been great running the first 13 miles with him, but I was glad to let him go because I didn't want to hold him back and wasn't up to holding the pace he wanted. I concentrated on moving my arms, breathing and keeping my body erect while I made my way through little Italy on Taylor street and south to Pilsen. The smell of tortillas and chorizo was thick in the air and a large and festive crowd had turned out. After I took water I was running east on 18th when Bruce Svoboda ran up next to me and ran with me for a mile or so. We chatted about his run at the Milwaukee marathon the week before, about our friend Jane Murphy's amazing victory. With her great time (2:44) she qualified for the Olympic trials. Bruce was running pretty well one week post marathon. He was looking for a friend he had promised to run in with and soon sped on ahead. I experienced a great lift from that 5 minute interlude with him. It energized my run all the way to China town. I could see the Dragon's head bobbing and could hear the roar of the crowd. As we ran south on Wentworth through the water stop and out of China town the street was so coated with Gatorade that it was sticky. Mile 16-18 brought us into sight of Comiskey park. We turned back west for a few blocks, then south on Shields to the park. As I motored on I kept wondering when I would blow up even though the pain was lessening. I had been thinking about my old friend Casey. I thought how I hadn't seen him since New Year's Eve and we hadn't even talked after Jerry Garcia died. I didn't know his number, so couldn't call, but seeing Comiskey, and knowing what a Sox fan he is must have brought him to mind. Wouldn't you know it, I took water, rounded the corner, and suddenly Casey leapt out of the crowd, ran up next to me and grabbed my hand. He said "pretty fast for an old Hippie!" It was great seeing him and it really boosted my spirits. It carried me well past mile 19 into mile 20.
Mile 20 is a true landmark in a marathon-- the half way point. I noted that I had never felt as well in any other marathon at 20 miles as I did at that time even though it was the most bleak part of the course. We were on Lasalle heading north with the Dan Ryan expressway on our left and the Robert Taylor homes on our right. There were no spectators, no scenery, and just the view of Sears Tower looming large in the distance. But it was sheltered and sunny and the pain in my knee (which had brought on some pain in my hip flexor) had all but vanished by then and I was feeling strong. I started to swing my arms more, and began to push the pace a little. I was passing people steadily as we went past IIT over Lake Shore Drive and onto the bike path. Mile 21 and 22 presented no problem. But then reality settled in. As we headed back north on LSD, into the wind, with no spectators, just cars whizzing past, I started to struggle. A cop drove by and announced over his PA "hurry up, my mudder already finished..." Thanks for that. From mile 11 on when I twisted my knee, I had this feeling of dread wondering if I would blow up. As I neared 23 I thought I was going to crash. But I didn't. I just motored on, kept swinging my arms, kept breathing deep breaths, and kept my body erect. I visualized a suitcase handle pulling me from my chest. I thought about having a secret little friend behind me, pushing me from the small of my back, helping me along. I passed mile 24 at 3:42, I knew I would really have to pick it up to make it under 4 hours yet I didn't seem to have much left. I dug in, and pushed as much as I could muster. Past McCormick place, off Lake Shore Drive and past mile 25 at 3:51, I still a chance to make it. I saw a hill in front of me as we went past Soldier's Field and started to flag. At that moment the last mile seemed like an impossibility. Then I saw Jim Zechouser. He was at mile 25.5 equipped with a big boom box. He ran out next me, the radio on his shoulder and ran up the hill with me. "Can we pick up our knees?" I wasn't talking. "Don't drop your head." I felt my pace increase as I passed dozens of people going up the hill. He dropped off at the top and cheered me on. What a lift! A fantastic boost at a critical time. I could see the finish line, I hunkered down and kicked as best as I could. I "sprinted" past possibly 100 people in the last 200 yards and crossed the finish line at 4:02. I raised my hands triumphantly over my head and howled. Yes! I'd done it, I'd finished! I never hit the wall, I didn't crash or blow up and apparently hadn't caused any serious damage. No feeling compares to the sense of accomplishment one experiences when finishing a marathon. Nor do you feel the sudden rigor that sets into to the legs except after finishing a marathon.
Even though I never hit the wall or blew up, and though I'd run 6 previous marathons, I was more sore and stiff after this one than from any previous one. It was my 4th fastest and 4th slowest marathon. Karen seemed to recover quickly. Her strategy of walking through the water stops served he well. She breezed to 4:38 finish, never hit the wall, and sprang right back. As I had discovered at Big Sur, a little walking really helps. As you slow to a walk it allows the built up lactic acid to be cleared, but running the whole race, and especially pressing hard, pushing the pace at the end, increases the lactate build up and hinders the recovery. Drinking much water really helps to flush out the garbage and aids recovery-- Aqua vita. I have now learned to drink early, drink often and drink afterwards. One would think it would be so obvious and natural to drink plenty of water, yet we often find ourselves neglecting to drink. So, push the fluids, keep your knees bent when you stretch your hamstrings, and hope you have great buddies giving you critical support at the moments in the race when you need it the most, and you too are destined to have a triumphant marathon experience.