2007 Chicago Marathon survival report

After setting a goal to run this race in November 2006, I trained through injury and all kinds of weather to get ready for this. My peak 20 miler in mid-September went well, and the weather for it was perfect - if only I had that weather come race day.

I got up at 4:30 am race morning to meet Molly and her dad at the Belmont red line stop. The weather felt pretty good at the time - a slight breeze and not enough humidity to get me down. I started thinking maybe the weather wouldn't be as bad as they were predicting. I met up with Molly and her dad and we took the train down to the Congress Hotel to meet my parents. Runners were all over the place, it was quite a sight. I don't remember where we got off, I just know I followed the pack of runners. I was a little nervous but knew I had prepared for this as best I could.

Met my parents at the Congress Hotel around 6:45 where Molly wrote my name on duct tape and put it on my shirt. Very thoughtful and I knew it would come in handy later in the race. Otherwise I just stretched and chatted with the rents waiting for the start. I saw a bunch of people from Mexico taking a group photo outside the hotel, as well as some charity runners. Made me wish I had done this for others besides myself, but this past spring I dealt with enough shin problems to make me wonder if I could even run this race. I didn't want to disappoint anyone.

7:15 AM: Make a quick bathroom stop and then decide to head to the race. Walk past a runner in a Spiderman costume. He would be hot today. I was amazed at how big the start area was standing a half block from where I had to leave my support group.

7:30 AM: Time to mark my place among the masses and leave my parents, Molly, and her dad. Got good luck wishes and weaved my way about halfway between the 4:15 and 4:30 pace groups where I had hoped to run. Given training paces I could have run a 9:15-9:20 pace on a normal day, but with this weather I thought a 10 min pace was achievable. That would put me at a 4:22 finish time. I'm feeling more excited than nervous - it's times like this where I try to keep in mind one of my philosophies: "There's no work left to be done. Focus on what you can do, don't worry about what you can't." I chat with neighbors in my corral, but nobody says much. I talk to one guy who has run 2 previous Chicagos and he tells me to forget about time and just enjoy it. I realize he's right and I don't stress myself about finish time.

7:55 AM: JoDee Messina, a country singer and marathon participant, sings the national anthem. Very good and inspiring. HR is up and I'm ready to run.

8:00 AM: Announcement that the race has begun. Nobody around me moves - it's the open corral, I knew I had to wait.

8:14 AMish: I cross the start line. HR is up instantly into the mid 160s and low 170s.

Mile 1: Fans EVERYWHERE. Makes you want to sprint, but I knew I had to control myself. I see a girl's shirt that says "I'm on lap 2" and chuckle. They say the first few miles should feel ridiculously easy, and for the most part they did. We go in a tunnel in the first half mile (Wacker?) and the heat just gets trapped in there. It's tough to breathe and I'm sweating already. HR is in the low 170s, about 15 bpm above my training rate - this is what I thought I would average the whole race, so I slow down as much as I can. I run around an 11 min mile.

Miles 2-3: I'm sweating like crazy. Still running an 11 min/mile pace, and I'm ok with it. The weather doesn't feel that bad now that I've gotten out of the tunnel. There's a nice breeze from the wind tunneling between the skyscrapers, and shade because the sun is still low in the sky. I'm feeling ok and nerves are gone. I hit my first water station and try to drink on the run. Only after I try do I realize I can't and spill it all over myself. I stop to walk and drink and take a cup of water to dump on my head. My name tag is soaked and hanging by a thread, so I get rid of it :(

Mile 4: I see Mary Beth from work and give a quick "hi". I barely caught her, as I was looking for other co-workers' big blue foam fingers. If they were there I didn't see them. I'm starting to feel a blister forming in my left big toe from dumping water on myself, so I make a conscious effort to keep water contained to the top half of my body. Shortly after I run past a guy running in a huge foam costume that looks like a pair of testicles. I think "no way". But sure enough, those little black hairs were in fact hairs. The website on his back was malecancer.net, apparently running for charity. It looked like he was struggling already, so I gave him a quick pat on the back (balls?) and kept on moving. His costume was made of all foam, I thought there is no way he's making it all the way in this heat. I finish the mile at a 10 min/mile pace - perfect. Exactly where I want to be at this point in the race.

Miles 5-6: Make our way up LaSalle through Lincoln Park. Hit another water station with adequate supplies and prepare to take my first gels of the day. Ate those on the run so all I had to do was wash them down with water. Move up toward Diversey and run by my current and old apartments where I see Ameed and Brooke - I cross half the street and call them out and keep moving. Going up Sheridan/Lake shore we hit Addison and we're on our way back south on Broadway.

Miles 7-8: Boystown is hilarious. Like 20 members of the Village People singing on stage to my left. Crowd is very loud and I'm feeling great, maintaining 9:50 to 10:00/mile pace since mile 4. There's a cool breeze and probably a little advantage being so close to home. I felt comfortable and knew the distance I was traveling based on landmarks around me.

Miles 9-10: Back into Lincoln Park down Clark St. I'm expecting my parents and Molly and sure enough they come through. I see my parents first and get close to them. But I don't see Molly! I ask where she is and I see her climbing up some stairs to get a better view. :) Made me feel better. They were all so vocal! I'm still feeling awesome and actually running a bit too fast, around 9:40/mile pace these 2 miles. I know I can't keep that up the whole race and make an effort to pull back a bit. 10 miles down - just another long run :)

Miles 11-12: Down into Old Town on Wells. I'm expecting to see my fellow ASGers and they come through with their foam fingers (God that must have been hot). I give them all high fives and keep on plugging away. Not much else to report these few miles. Glad I saw some people I knew, just tried to keep moving but not exert too much effort. I could feel a little strain in my legs so I try to slow the pace a bit. Don't remember exact splits.

HALFWAY: I make the turn west and hit the halfway mark feeling good. Run something like a 9:20 mile here so I know I'm a little juiced with adrenaline. I try to control myself knowing the next 3-4 miles will be difficult as we head west into the less crowded west loop. Half marathon split is 2:13. Maybe a sub-4:30 is possible?

Miles 14-15: I start to feel a little sore. This is the beginning. As we head west toward the United Center there are no tall buildings, the temperature is now up in the low 80s, and sun is beating down on all of us. People have started walking already. I did not expect walking at this point. People were collapsing left and right. I hear sirens non-stop the whole way out toward the western-most point of the course. I knew this was abnormal. I had no idea how bad it had gotten. My pace has slowed to about 10:20/mile but I knew at this point I couldn't keep it up - survival was the goal. I told myself if my HR got above 175 I would slow down/walk til I recovered.

Mile 16-17: Made the turn and heading back toward downtown. At least half the runners are now walking. The heat is taking its toll and everyone is just trying to stay hydrated. Fire hydrants are cracked and spraying water everywhere. I go against my self-imposed ban on dousing myself with water and risk more blisters to cool off underneath them. Fans on the course are giving us ice cubes - I grab a few and hold them, press them against my body until they melt. At this point I know I can't run the whole way as I feel my calves getting really heavy. I have 9.2 miles to go?! I try to think of the distance I have finished thus far and just put one foot in front of the other. The crowds are pretty sparse. We get back into the city and Elvis is singing. I run by and give him a high five. It's loud as we're by Fleet Feet, where so many runners really appreciate what we are going through.

Mile 18: We hit the PowerGel station - at this point I have taken 3 packs of Clif Shot Blocks and cannot stomach any more solid or gummy food. I decide it's going to be Gatorade and water from here on out. Survival is the only goal, and it's clear walking/running is the plan for the rest of the way. I shuffle along at 10:30/mile pace with 30-45 second walk breaks every 1-2 miles. When I stop to walk I try not to bend my knee too much - it feels like a mouse trap ready to spring, and once it locks up and cramps, it's going to take a lot of work to straighten it out again. However, picking my leg up and bending my knee helps get the lactic acid out of my muscles a bit, and I'm ready to jog again. Apparently we passed Little Italy but I don't remember much of it.

Mile 19: God. I'm really starting to feel it now. My heart rate is ok so I know I'm not going to die, but I swear someone replaced my legs with lead. We're in Pilsen, the Hispanic neighborhood of Chicago, and they're fired up. Unfortunately I'm walking. Even with the crowd it was just hard to get us going. Again, they were amazing with spray bottles, hoses, gallons of water to dump on our heads, anything to cool us off. God bless them. I continue to hear sirens, and at this point I don't even think twice about it. It's been almost constant since the halfway mark and I only expect to hear more.

Mile 20: I know Chinatown is around here somewhere. I continue to run/walk with walk breaks getting up to 1 min every 1-1.5 miles. We cross the bridge and I hear someone yell "Stop they've canceled the race!" I thought it was a joke and kept plugging along, a little slower each mile. Don't remember much else about this part.

Mile 21: Ok so no Chinatown yet, but I was expecting to see my family and Molly soon. We go under a bridge of a highway (not sure where exactly) and I catch my Molly and her dad. I give them high fives and continue where I see my mom and dad a short distance beyond, cameras in hand. I give them an exaggerated exhausted look for a photo op (I'm sure those turned out great), and before I know it I see Molly running out of the corner of my eye. She starts BOOKING it and I'm trying to keep up. After the race she tells me she was tired too - we pushed each other to near sprint-mode for about a good 1:30 to 2 minutes. By far my favorite and most memorable part of the race. It was a great boost to pick up my pace after a 11 min+ mile the mile before. Up ahead was the big turn in Chinatown. The LOUDEST corner of the race. I ran past a wheelchair participant and wished him luck, he seemed to appreciate it. I was flying around that corner, so inspired. 5 miles to go, I know I can do this.

Mile 22: A bit of a letdown after Chinatown, but it can't get much louder than that. Well I hoped it could at the finish line, which seemed like it was in Wisconsin at this point. Toward a left hand turn ahead I see a guy with only a red pitchfork, standing perfectly still. My HR was in the 160s so I wasn't dying, but man he must have brought the heat of hell with him. We hit US Cellular Field shortly after and I start to hear from volunteers that the race was canceled. I worry. I did NOT train this long to give up now. I will run through police barricades if necessary. Most people walking are exhausted already but there are enough runners for me to continue my run/walk plan.

Mile 23: We make the turn back north. I know I am not stopping now. My legs feel awful and are ready to cramp up any minute. People are dropping EVERYWHERE. Sirens are eerily present through every second of running. I'm walking 1:30 to 2 min per mile and also walking through aid stations. Luckily at this point, and most others, there was an adequate supply for us runners. But it was very hard to get any Gatorade or water - volunteers could not pour fast enough. Fire departments brought out their hoses. Families were offering ice, jolly ranchers, even beer. I couldn't stomach anything besides Gatorade and water and kept plugging along. I think somewhere around here I finally realize underneath the mile sign it says "Final 5". Ok fuck anyone who tries to get in my way, there is no stopping me now.

Mile 24: I have less than a 5k left. It will be my slowest 5k ever in my life but I am ok with it. At this point cops are in the street telling everyone they HAVE to walk, the race has been canceled. I later hear from other runners cops were pulling out snide remarks like "The finished won 2 hours ago!" FUCK. YOU. I knew I was not going to win before I entered this. You clearly do not understand my motivation to train through winter cold, summer heat, and everything in between to do one thing - FINISH. I ran past every cop that told me to stop. Cooling buses were provided on half the course. Apparently that's the only thing the CTA can do well. Police helicopters are flying low announcing runners to walk the rest of the way. Sorry bud, not happening. I'm at 11:30/min miles at this point, giant blisters on my feet, and it looked like I had just gotten out of Lake Michigan. But I am NOT walking the rest of the way.

Mile 25: Ok I'll walk. Not because of the cops but the heat and tired legs just killed me. Walking 2-2:30 for each mile now. I decide I'll suffer through this mile a little slower so I can finish strong. I will finish running, NOT walking. Runners are desperate to finish, and if that means jogging, they jog. But it seems like the motivation to finish is overriding the motivation to stop for most people at this point. I'm pretty delusional at this point and I thought I heard people calling my name, which is weird because I haven't had my name on my shirt since mile 2. Apparently I am running next to another Brian. Lucky me. I pass the 40k mark so I know I'm close but I'm too tired to do mental math on how much I have left. I'm hoping Molly is getting my text message updates on my progress. I'm almost there!

Mile 26: Finish STRONG. I pick up the pace to about my 10 min/mile pace I carried at mile 4. I'm passing a lot of people and cops telling me to walk. I don't remember a lot of details here, but I knew I had to cross that finish line. I don't think I walked more than 1 min in this mile. I realize I can break 4:40 if I do well here. I push myself and my HR bumps up into the 170s. We make the right turn onto Roosevelt. I know we're SO close. I can hear the finish line crowd (with sirens in the background).

Mile .2: OH MY GOD WHO PUT THIS HILL HERE?? It's tiny but at that point it's Mt. Everest. Cops are out in FULL force HERE, of all places, to get people to walk. Do you REALLY think you're going to get people who CHOSE to run TWENTY SIX POINT TWO MILES, obviously those of us with a few screws loose, to walk the last .2? Only those who were seriously ill walked. All of us ran. I made the left turn onto Columbus on the left side of the street. I wasn't sure if my family and Molly got into the finish area bleachers (later I found out they couldn't) but I looked for them. The crowd seemed loud. They had signs for how many meters you had left - I started sprinting (relatively speaking) with 400 meters left. I think my watch was around 4:37 here. I KNOW I can break 4:39. I thought back to the sprints I did with Huron Hockey, knowing all I had left was one lap around the track. I sprinted. My form was awful. I'm sure my legs were flailing everywhere. But I wanted < style=""> I move to the right side of the finish chute as cops directed me to (they closed off half the finish area) and I finished right behind Brian Shulman of all people. Time: 4:39:16. It felt so weird but unbelievably rewarding to stop. I wondered if my chip time was recorded because they canceled the race. Even though I ran this for me, I wanted a chip time.

FINISH CHUTE: I grabbed my space blanket (obviously didn't need it today, but wanted a keepsake) and medal right away and grabbed a banana and apple. I couldn't stomach the thought of a Power Bar. They had free beer and I SO wanted one, but I had a hard time keeping anything down. I never puked, but knew I couldn't eat much more. People were collapsing everywhere. I heard "Man down at station 8!" not too far from me, and people rushed to get a wheelchair to him. I was glad I could stand up and function normally.

I went to Buckingham Fountain and found my parents and Molly after about five minutes. It was over. I couldn't believe what I just did. I recapped the race highlights and tried to stretch but my hips cramped up horribly in the process. I must have looked like a fish out of water, but I was not the only one. I found out I did get a chip time, labeled as "unofficial" due to the cancellation, but I got it. We sat for about 45 minutes. I talked to my aunt in Georgia, she was so happy for me. I was so content lying in the grass, medal around my neck.

I averaged 10:40/min miles throughout the 26.2 miles, which, given 88 degree temperatures and heat index in the 90s, I was happy with. Actually having a pulse was what I was happy with, everything else was a benefit.

I cannot explain how much low heartrate/Maffetone training helped me during this race. I averaged at a 167 HR which is about 83% of my estimated max. I was able to use my aerobic system enough to get me through it, and more importantly, I knew my limits to keep myself out of trouble and out of the hospital.

Will I do it again? Of course. When? Who knows. I think management of the race needs to be improved, and I need to be reassured everything will be under control if I decide to run Chicago again. But fact of the matter is this is some of THE worst conditions I will ever face without the race getting canceled before it starts. I want a fair shot at 26.2 to see what kind of time I can post. Maybe Boston one day? Who knows. But I'm proud to say I survived and finished the 2007 Chicago Marathon.