These are my impressions of running the Chicago marathon on October 13, 2002. It was quite an experience. The short story: 4:45:27, 10:53 pace. I ran 10 miles then did 1 mile run, 1 minute walk plus walked through water stops. The crowd was fantastic. I survived in style! Fears that my recurring injury would sideline were did not come true and despite only 6 meager weeks of distance running, I had a great day. Now, the way too long account of running the Chicago marathon and what led up to it. I am post post-marathon depression now. I had a nice little run (5 miles) on the next Sunday and felt pretty good. I had a very tough recovery, first physical, then psychological. Both seemed much worse than previous marathons.
This was number 16 marathon, 18 of marathon and beyond. I did 6 in 12 months before my hiatus. I did a 50 mile trail ultra on Nov 4, 2002, three weeks before Ryder was born. On Oct 31, 1999 I did my first marathon after recovering from a stress fracture. Cape Cod in 4:00:10. I was so happy to be doing the distance again. Then in 2000 I did Lake Front 50 K, Lake County marathon and Prague all in seven weeks in the spring. That fall I did Milwaukee then one month later the ultra. Too much too soon or too often I suppose. Early 2001 I jumped right back in, ran 4 races in as many weeks- 5 K, 10 mile, 30 K, 25 K and then the next week at track-- blammo. Seriously reinjured myself. It was all I could do to run-- so I stopped. I shifted gears-- figuratively and on my bicycle, and took up triathlon. Did my first tri, Mrs T in August 2001, a humbling experience. Sure that I was now healed, I did the NHC 25 K in September, then as soon as I could run again, did a 2 hour trail run with Jeff, Bob and the MMDRS in Minneapolis. That was it. I stopped running from Thanksgiving to New Years 2002.
Then I started over. Small steps, little runs. I pushed Ryder in the jogger, and had done hundreds of miles walking, but no running. New shoes and short runs. I was sure I was healed. Then-- several races, a long 15 mile run with Steve and I feared I was back where I started. So, back to changing gears. I rode my bike a lot-- over 600 miles commuting, and I took swim coaching-- then did two tris this summer. Much better. Still humbling, but not nearly as painful. And I declared-- the 10K run at Mrs T commenced my marathon training. I believed that I had finally taken enough time off and cross trained sufficiently to begin running again. Six week crash course in marathon preparation-- my biggest month of miles in two years, over 100 in Sept. I did 10k, 10 miles, 16 miles (at 96 degrees), 20 miles (fantastic), 25 K race (great), then one more 20 miler. Through all that distance my leg held up. With the proper mix of walking and stretching I was able to work around the persistent myofacial trigger point that kept crippling me. Two week taper and the marathon.
I was very excited to be doing the 25th anniversary LaSalle Banks Chicago marathon. We were trying to get our own tent for RunBig from Vertels, but the high wind prediction the night before the marathon scuttled that plan. I don't remember ever being so excited about doing a marathon before. All the media attention and build up made me so keyed up for the day-- yet I felt no feelings of dread or anxiety-- just sheer unbridled excitement. Race day dawned cold and bright and I thought about what lay ahead. As I rode the El downtown and it filled with marathoners, our collective excitement was infectious. Nothing like 26.2 miles to unearth everything-- those old injuries and new ones too hiding out deep beneath the surface. I just didn't know if I was going to blow up and find myself gripped with pain, unable to continue running. I thought back on the recent long runs and recalled how good going 20 miles felt and summonsed up confidence that going just 10 K more would be OK. But like the say, 20 miles is just half way in the marathon... I exited the subway and found the still dark streets of the loop filled with a steady stream of runners heading to the start. I took advantage of Vertel's kind offer to use their store-- and indoor plumbing, and connected with Mark Rudnicki-- first time marathoner. As we approached the start we found ourselves in the elite pen-- and quickly scurried out. My impression of those lead runners was that they are all so small. We maneuvered ourselves into the gathered throng just as the Star Spangled Banner was sung. I was so excited. All I could do was yell and scream and hoot and howl. Standing in a crowd of 30,000 or more runners itself is a rather exhilarating feeling-- hearing Sweet Home Chicago, then Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run blarring at 120 decibels created a sense of sheer delirium. What a trip! What a thrill! What a great feeling of anticipation that was. Minutes to go-- 40 degrees, sun was on the horizon. We peeled off our throw away shirts and edged forward. And we were off. Slowly walking ever closer to the start line, it took only about 5 minutes to hit the matt and go. I was swept away in the mad torrent of runners and lost Mark within seconds. But I had plenty of company.
My goal was to run 10 minute pace, and come in at 4:20, but I knew that this was rather ambitious all things considered. The most important thing was to not go out too fast. I ran the first 4 miles at 9 to 9:30 pace and felt like a coiled coil, ready to explode, anxious to go out faster-- and consciously throttled myself back. By mile 5 I slowed to 10 minute pace and walked, purposefully, through the water stop. By mile 6 we made it to Lincoln park and I joined 2000 other runners who were peeing in the trees. I knew I was suppose to walk 1 run 1, but was still unable to slow myself up enough to do this. Through Lakeview, the crowd on the sidewalks 10 people thick, so much cheering, the all male cheerleader squad, the transvestite drag show, the festive exuberant crowd- I kept pushing the pace. By mile 9 I felt the first twinges from my leg. From mile 10 on I not only walked through the water stops, but every time I hit a mile marker I walked for one full minute. This definitely slowed my pace. The temperature was still in the low 40s but it was quite pleasant in the sun. So much so that I feared I would get too hot. Then a gust of cold wind would rattle my number and I was glad I still had my gloves on. In the shade it was much cooler than in the sun, but running north and south, the wind was not a factor. I settled in and enjoyed the run. I thought about just how much fun I was having. What a privilege it was to be able to run in this race. There were several bands along the way, relentless guitar players doing their own marathon playing. And the crowd-- fantastic. When the course reentered downtown area, the crowd was intense-- thousands and thousands of people cheering wildly. It was incredible. We turned to the west on Adams and ran through Greek town. The sun was warm and the crowds encouraging, but the head wind was blowing strong. I knew Karen and Ryder were going to be at the half way mark and I was really looking forward to seeing them. Thoughts of them buoyed me through several miles. At last there they were. Ryder was none too happy bundled up as he was, and though it was sunny, the bitter west wind made it pretty cold to just stand around. I enjoyed seeing him more than he seemed to enjoy seeing me.
We rounded Ogden and headed back east. Oddly enough the wind still seemed to be blowing into my face. The Hawk was doing its thing. I began to struggle. The let down from no longer anticipating seeing my crew settled in. I started to feel sharp pain in both hip pointers-- ancient injuries were now surfacing. I concentrated on carrying myself erect, breathing into my pelvis, toeing off, swinging my arms-- and pressing on. My pace had dropped and I had entered survival mode-- and it was only mile 14. But relief was just around the corner. My savior, the legendary ultra Saint Stephen was waiting at the mile 16 water stop, ready to run me in. Students from my lab and in my department joined the Oak Park Runners to man the water stop on Taylor street in Little Italy. It was wonderful to see so many people I knew as I slogged past. Then-- Steve jumped out and joined me. Just like most of the long runs I've been on in the past several years, my running brother fell in, stride for stride with me and I felt like a new man. My new found momentum carried me through Pilsen and all the Mexican delights, then on to China town where we entered the Cliff shot zone. The street was strewn ankle deep in discarded gel packets and Gatorade cups. Our feet stuck to the pavement for the next mile as we continued south. In the past several times I've run Chicago, this is the part of the course that gets really bleak-- deserted and not very scenic. But this year-- wow, there were tens of thousands of spectators. Incredible. The crowd was fantastic. We rounded Comiskey park and continued south, and the CARA cheering section at mile 21 was great. The CTA published a spectators guide and huge numbers of people occupied all of the prime vantage points easily accessed via the EL. Thank you! it was wonderful to get so much support at the nadir of the marathon. We crossed the Dan Ryan and then headed north on LaSalle. At mile 22 there was a table with people giving away free beer. Steve availed himself of this and seemed to really enjoy it. I had my game face on by then and was determined to soldier through. My quads felt like blocks of concrete, my hips were singing and my old trigger point was sending mild shock waves through my lower leg. But the walk intervals seemed to stave off the cramping and with Steve's encouragement, I kept on keepin' on. Soon we passed IIT and MLK Blvd.
The crowds remained strong, but decidedly thinner there in the shadow of the infamous Robert Taylor homes. Soon, we were northbound nearing McCormick place. The very spot where nearly two hours earlier Khalid Kannouchi made his move and blew past Toshinari Takaoka. And just 10 minutes later Paula Radcliffe was running alone shedding her pacers, on her way to the new world's record. What an experience, to tread on the very ground where the fastest marathon runners in the world-- in the history of the world, had just crossed. And somehow, I was still able to run then too. When you emerge from the tunnel at mile 25 its like being born again. The skyline looms large right in front of you as the lakefront path takes you on to Lake Shore Drive for the final ascent. Up the ramp across Roosevelt road and just in sight of the 26 mile mark Steve peeled off. I reached into my pocket, dug out a kick and verily sprinted the last 300 yards to the finish. The huge jumbotron showed me as I crossed the line. I was so excited I screamed arms held high overhead, so happy to have finished-- and not at all disappointed in the 4:45:27 I clocked. As I meandered through the crowd of finishers, getting my metal and silver wrapper one thought emerged-- I was BACK! Yes, I could do it! I can still run marathons! I conquered the injury and in some manner, ugly though it may have been, was able to survive the marathon distance. My next thought-- next time I run a marathon, I am going to train for it! ouch.
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