Race Report - 2010 Chicago Marathon

The shoes unlaced, race bib put up, soreness leaving. The 2010 Chicago Marathon took me on a roller coaster ride of emotions and a wide spectrum of physical conditions. The 2010 Chicago Marathon helped me learn a great deal about myself as a runner, marathoner and a person.

As a whole, the Chicago Marathon experience was stellar. From the Expo to the course to the post-race resources, the entire deal was top notch. I truly enjoyed finally meeting the other Chicago Marathon Online Diarists as well. A truly great group of people and a wonderful cross section of the running community as a whole.

Chicago is a beautiful city, filled with amazing architecture and history. As you undoubtedly know by now, I was also rather enamored with the food culture of the fine city of Chicago as well as its great local haunts for pints of Chicago's finest ales. Visits to such mainstays as Lou Malnati’s, Al’s Italian Beef, Gino’s East, Garrett’s Popcorn and Goose Island Brewpub made the Chicago experience that much better. But back to the matter at hand…

The morning of the marathon was met with some trepidation. I knew temperatures would be "higher" than initially anticipated, but few knew what would be in store. With a start temp of about 60 degrees though, I felt comfortable enough with my training and abilities to make my top goal of 4:22 happen. As the runners started and made their way through the Start, I slowly began to realize what was ahead. This was going to be a big day.

The morning started off well enough. Temps were right at 60 degrees and the sun slowly began to rise with the hopes of a triumph on this day. After a good luck hug and kiss from my wife, I made my way down to the start area… the 15 minute walk did me some good, shaking out some early morning nerves. The air felt good, although not the crisp and cool air I had been hoping for or remembered at MCM last year. Not surprisingly, I was not the first into the “open” corral. Nevertheless, I found a place and settled in. This, I truly believed, was going to be awesome.

The corrals all filled quickly. Random strangers making comments about the weather, possible concerns, race goals, anything you can imagine to anyone and everyone who would listen. Anxiety was clear.

By 7:30 a.m., there was nothing left to do other than the simplest thing a human being can do… RUN.

The emotion and grandeur of the start of the Chicago Marathon is hard to put into words. Running down Columbus Drive and under the bridge, hearing the screaming voices, U2’s “Beautiful Day” blaring over the loud system. Amazing.

Before I know it, I am in a rhythm. My goal for this race was a simple one to track: 4:22 or 10:00 minutes per mile. The early portions of the race, through the heart of the city, were fantastic. Slight rolls in terrain here and there but, by and large pancake flat. My splits were good. No, great. By the half way mark, I was at 2:11:31 – a hair over where I wanted to be, but still well within striking distance and I still felt strong. I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of my amazingly supportive wife at the half way point. That could not have come at a better time. I lost only a little time through the 25K mark.

By 30K, the sun was fully up and blazing. No more skyscrapers to shield the sun’s strength-sapping rays. I stopped, felt sick, and pulled off to the side. Not thinking about 4:22 any longer, my thoughts went very, very dark. My mind hurt, my heart hurt. My soul hurt. In sum, things were not going well. The notion of waiving down med staff came into my mind. But… I… couldn’t…

About 100 feet ahead of me, I see a female runner, pacing me, slow down, stop, wobble and collapse in the span of about 5 seconds. Medical staff were to her side quickly. Sobering, beyond belief.

I stammered on. Miles 20 through 26 were a mix of slow running, some walking, and a great deal of cramping, despite hitting every single water stop on the course. Survival was my goal. And I was not going to die to be victorious on this day. It just was not a day for me to hit a 4:22. I could live with that.

Crowd support for this event was, to say the least, outstanding and virtually non-stop. Without that, it is difficult to say how I would have fared on this day.

With 800 meters left, seemingly every leg muscle cramped, I wanted to finish strong – make that, as strong as possible anyway. In the distance, I see a flag waving. Largely insignificant to 95% of the runners on the course, it was the Flag of Bavaria, Germany – where our family is from. The strength I pull from my late Uncle, with whom I shared amazing times and a stunning visit to Germany cannot be understated. Losing him to metastatic prostate cancer a couple of years back has been both a point of deep sadness, still, as well as a source of strength to move forward. Seeing the “Blau und Weiss” flying in the distance made my thoughts shift to that place. True, dark as those thoughts were at the time, there was NO way I was not going to finish and finish STRONG.

Thinking back to what my late Uncle used to say: "If you are not progressing, you are regressing", I kept moving forward. The final left turn made, the Finish in sight, cruise control set… We are coming in for a landing – albeit a rough one. Mugging it for the cameras, finishing upright, all victories today. Space blanket, medal, water, banana. All of these were great things. Sadly, all I wanted was to get out of the sun. The long mile-long walk back up Columbus to our hotel was painful, filled with pauses for possible nausea, pauses filled with massive cramping, and bouts of quick, flaring emotion. Proud yet sad and disappointed. It was strange. The hug from my wife outside our hotel seemed to give me some of my long lost strength back. I was not “human” again. Not yet, anyway.

After an hour of so of lying around in our hotel room with my legs in the air, drinking any kind of liquid I could find, I cleaned up and my wife and I went out to a great little bar, Dublin’s, for a burger/beer celebratory meal. A great day, ended with whom and in the manner I would not have better prescribed.

Chicago Marathon taught me a great deal. For one, you cannot control everything. When it comes to marathons, you can control even less. My training, or so I felt, put me in a position to be successful. Little did I know, on this day, that it would take me about 23 minutes longer to achieve that success. Running – and marathoning – for me, are hardly about times and all that comes with that. Sure, I want to improve. I think that is a reasonable expectation for anyone taking on this endeavor. What I found, despite the trials, traps and darkness along the way was a sense of self within the greater whole of it all. I knew I was a marathoner. What I did not know was to what lengths I would have been willing to go to be that very thing. MCM in 2009 was not this drama-filled. Chicago Marathon 2010 made it clear to me just where my heart and soul lie. Running has, in fact, saved my life. The best way I can give it the respect due is to be the absolute best I can and give what I have on that day. That day, 10 October 2010, I left it out there and then some. Time could have been better. Headaches could have been less. In the end, it was about something so much more.