Chicago Marathon: Race Report

Let's get to the good stuff! Start with the post below if you want a recap of everything leading up to marathon morning.

I rolled out of bed after very little sleep at about 4:15 Sunday morning. I was seriously starting to freak the eff out (not sure why...just nerves I guess). I got dressed and got my bag of stuff to send with John ready (clean clothes, etc.) and John woke up and came downstairs with me. I kept tearing up. I was so unreasonably scared at this point.

I managed to choke down a bagel with peanut butter and some coffee, and went about collecting the rest of the stuff I'd need, all the while trying not to cry. John helped me pin on my bib and my pace bib, and I got the D-tag attached to my shoe. I managed to use the bathroom, but knew that I didn't "do enough" to get me through. My stomach was a mess.

(Do I look scared to death? I am. Check out that ugly right foot - the bane of my running existence.)

So I was pretty much ready to go, and then I allowed myself to lose it. I cried on John's shoulder for a minute, then quickly pulled it together. I had to go. I grabbed a bottle of water for the road, all my stuff, and headed to the car.

The trip into the city was blissfully uneventful. No traffic to speak of, even when I hit downtown. The sun was just starting to light up the sky a little bit, and it looked beautiful behind all the lit up buildings. It was a gorgeous morning. I made it to my friend's building with no issues other than having to convince the cop guarding their taped-off driveway that I REALLY DID NEED to get in there. Finally he rolled his eyes at me and let me in (this was welcome comic relief at this moment - I'm not sure what I'd have done if he HADN'T let me in though!). I gathered my stuff and started walking. It took 2 minutes before my new skirt was pissing me off. Great. It was just a tiny bit bigger than my old one. Either that or I was smaller than I used to be. Either way, I was tugging at it and adjusting it like mad, and I wasn't running yet. I called John and had him pack my capris in case of emergency. I figured I could change quick when I saw him if I needed to.

I made it to the start area with no problem - just followed the rest of the runners. I slipped into the portapotties in charity village (no line!) and then headed for my pace group in the open corral. There were way too many people milling for this to be easy. I could see the group, but couldn't figure out how the hell I was going to get to them. Some nice volunteers took pity on me and directed me around the world and back again, and I made it with about 15 minutes to go before the race started for the speedies. I knew I'd have about a half an hour to hang after that before I hit the start line.

We got a little pep talk from our pace leader, who said we were doing a 5:1 run:walk from the get-go, and that we'd be running about a 10:30 pace. Um, no. That's exactly what I tried to do for my 20 miler, and why I bombed it big time. 10:30 is too fast for me. So I immediately revised my strategy in my head. I was going to try to keep my group in sight for as long as I could. I was going to run much slower than they were, but I'd walk about half of what they planned to, and the water stations (which they were walking as well) and see how it went.

Everyone was nervous. People were shuffling back and forth, all balls of energy. We were right next to the fence, and once the gun went off, people started jumping it to get to where they needed to be in time. I laughed to myself thinking that it'd be my luck to try that and injure myself before I even started running! But they all made it over ok.

As I was people watching, I looked over and spotted Kim!!! I was so so so excited to see a familiar face - what are the odds in a sea of 40,000? But she unknowingly really lifted my spirits.

By the time I made it across the start line, it was just after 8am. I had decided, and told my family, that I wasn't planning on taking my phone out, since it was wrapped up in a waterproof plastic pouch so I could get hosed off with no worries later. This, I found out much later, was a HUGE MISTAKE on my part. Runner tracking told them that I crossed the start at 9am. a full hour off. Not good.

The first several miles ticked off uneventfully, other than twisting my ankle in a pothole, flinging my arms up to right myself, and losing my right yurbud and mile 2.25. Yeah, not a good omen, I was thinking, but that was the worst of it. I was still messing with my damn skirt, but I was having a GREAT time. I was smiling huge at every person who screamed my name. And there were a LOT of them! Seriously, having my name on my shirt - on the FRONT of my shirt - was a fantastic plan. I felt like a rock star!

My pacing was also going right with my plan. I knew that to hit 5:30 I needed to average about a 12:35 pace. In the beginning, I was averaging 11:40s which is just where I wanted to be, and walking the water stops. Except for my belly, which was making itself known, I was feeling amazing. I found out later that my family had been at mile 6 when they THOUGHT I'd be there, but yeah, crappy run tracker. I was none-the-wiser, though, so no issue for me.

Seriously, this race and it's people are so so awesome. The spectators are stellar. Even the smaller neighborhoods come out and line the streets (I had one little girl offer me pb&J!). Boystown and the cheerleaders were so much fun to see! I had so much fun dancing and waving and high-fiving.

At mile 12, my stomach could no longer be ignored, so I had to make a potty stop. Got back into my groove again, but was pretty sure it wasn't done with me yet. *sigh* I got hosed down for the first time here, and then promptly all my letters fell off. Boo. No more rock star. At mile 14 I was pretty sure that I'd be seeing my family soon, so I said screw it and pulled out my phone to find out where they were. I'm so glad I did, because it turns out I'd passed them just a bit back - we missed each other. :( They told me where to look for them (mile 17, church's chicken, John said) and I was determined not to miss them again.

I ran and scoured the crowd. I was looking and looking. I didn't see them. I didn't see the chicken place. I was starting to feel sick to my stomach with worry that I'd miss them AGAIN. And then I hit the mile 17 marker, and I knew in my heart that I wasn't going to see them until the end.

I called - yes I missed them because they were given some misinformation and were not where they thought they were. They were heading to the finish, and I was on my own.

(my Dad took this - my family had their own marathon to run. 5 adults, 6 kids, 2 vehicles, 3 separate parking spots - I felt bad for THEM that I missed them)

This is where the race turned for me. I mentally checked out. I couldn't imagine doing 10 more miles in this heat without seeing them, and I was feeling sorry for myself BIG TIME. I started walking whenever I felt like it. Which was growing more and more frequently, truth be told.

The end took forever while I was in it, but I remember very little. I needed another potty stop soon after, and made the cardinal error of letting it rip before checking for TP. Stupid. This required some creative use of what you have on hand. Ahem. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Yet another potty stop at mile 22 or so, along with helping myself to some vaseline for the serious chub rub chafing happening. I had been doing ok - the sweat kept everything where it should be for a long time - so I'm not sure when I managed that, I just knew it hurt like hell. But the vaseline did the trick and I trudged along.

I was taking gatorade and water at every stop, and took a chocolate outrage GU every 5 miles. I had one point at about mile 23 where I started to feel nauseous, but I slowed down and took really small sips until it passed. After my last potty stop, my stomach was finally happy with me, so I knew that the nausea was more heat related than anything.

Once I hit 24, I started running a bunch more. I was feeling super guilty about letting my family sit out there for so long (completely ridiculous, but that's where my head was) and I realized that my legs? They still felt pretty damn good, thankyouverymuch.

(my very favorite picture from them - I look fierce in this one!)

I knew where my family would be this time (right at the turn off Michigan just before 26) and now I was moving again. I could. not. wait. to see them. Needed to. I came to the end of Michigan and I spotted them right in the corner. My BIL totally laughed at me because I ran off course to hug and kiss them all, but I was past 6 hours at this point - 2 more minutes meant nothing to me. They gave me the boost I so desperately needed.


Insert MUCH love here!! I think I kissed every single one of them!

Then I was off...I wanted this OVER now. As I made it up the last little hill, a guy yelled to me, "keep going! it's all shade and downhill from here!" and I thought to myself, THANK GOD!

Then? Then I was DONE! I was so happy that I finished! I was elated that I made it. Those last miles were a sea of ambulances, cop cars, stretchers, people laying on the side waiting for help. It was so tough out there, and my time, while so so not what I wanted, (6:09:00 officially) didn't even matter. I did it!

I got my medal and my wet towel (bliss - my legs were covered in cup shrapnel from all the hoses) and too much food to carry. I made sure to get my picture taken with my medal and with my hard earned beer.


I gotta say, the beer tasted better than i thought it would. I grabbed a spot of curb, and sat down to figure out where my crew was. I chilled out for a minute, since my phone was super salty and was freaking the hell out. I enjoyed the moment. After talking to John, I got up and headed to where they were, right outside the "no re-entry" gate. And then I got more love. And flowers too!

I was graciously driven home by my BIL (we have a stick shift car, and there was no way I wanted to drive). I got home to an ice bath waiting for me and we ordered in Uno's deep dish. I felt like I felt too good. I was kind of angry with myself for not pushing harder. I know I could have. Would it have been different 30 degrees cooler? Or was it because I didn't see my family on the course?

Only one way to find out - do it again.


(this is how I spent my Sunday evening - Zensah calf compression sleeves rock!)