Weight on Chicago 2010 Race Day: 255lbs.
Saturday October 9th, 2010 came fast. I got in my car that morning to make the trek from Toledo to Chicago. The drive is not too far, somewhere around 240 miles. Takes about three and a half hours to complete the trip. I had talked to my cousin Mike that morning, he was driving to Chicago from Indianapolis. We made plans to meet along the way and leave my car somewhere and drive into Chicago together. I ended up meeting him in Gary, Indiana. I left my car there, probably not the wisest choice if you know anything about Gary. Gary is town about 25 miles South of Chicago that was founded in 1906 by the United States Steel Corporation. Gary rose and fell with the steel industry and is now a shadow of its former self. The population has been steadily decreasing for the past few decades and crime is rampant.
I wasn't overly concerned about leaving my 1997 Chevy Lumina, that already had a broken back window from theft in Toledo, on the streets of Gary for a night, but decided to park it next to a church hoping to dispel would-be thieves with guilt of their sins. After leaving the Lumina, Mike and I drove the remaining 25 miles to Chicago in his car. As we neared the city we could see the magnificent Chicago skyline. We continued toward downtown stopping here and there to pay the numerous road tolls to get into the city. Once downtown we found a place to park and started to walk to the Expo to pick up our race packets.
There were runners everywhere heading to the Expo. Chicago is one of the largest marathons in the world. That year the field was made up of 46,000 runners. During race weekend you can't go anywhere in the Chicago area without crossing paths with a runner. We entered the convention center and rode the escalator down to the level where the Expo was being held. It was a sea of vendor booths, participants, and spectators. The vendors sold anything and everything related to running. There were shoes, shirts, tights, shorts, pants, headbands, gloves, masks, gels, bars, powders, ads for other races, and countless other running related items at the booths.
Most, if not all, big marathons have some sort of Expo the day before the race. The Expo serves a few purposes including a place for runners to check-in for the race and pick up their race packet, a forum for other cities and/or organizations to advertise their races, and a market place for vendors to sell loads of what I consider to be, overpriced running gear. There are few marathons that allow runners to check-in the same day as the race. They want runners to spend money on hotel rooms, restaurants, and merchandise in the city. This is not necessarily a bad thing as it supports the local economy, but for a runner like me who would prefer to just show up, run, and go home, it proves quite annoying.
The race packet pick up area is almost always located at the back of the expo. This forces runners to have to walk through the various vendor booths on the way in and out of the Expo. At my first marathon in Columbus they had pipe and draping set up in a zigzag pattern from the front of the expo to the rear. I felt like a mouse making my way through a maze with cheese at the end of it. Except unlike the mouse I had obstacles to overcome along way such as salesmen and crowds of runners. After pick up my packet, I ended up ducking underneath the draping on the side and walked straight to the exit on the way out.
I wasn't lucky enough to be able to duck under draping in Chicago. Mike and I weaved our way through the various boots and picked up our race packets and shirts. One benefit of a huge marathon expo is there are usually more attractions than just merchandise booths. At this particular expo one of the added attractions was an autograph session with ultra runner Dean Karnazes. Karnazes has written a few books about his ultra running exploits and has become a very public face for ultra running. Some feel he is too self-involved and has a big ego, but even if that is true, I don't really care because he is a tremendous runner. I read some reviews of one of his books and some ultra runners were bashing him for writing too much about himself and not mentioning other ultra runners that are as good or better than him in his writing. I call those people cry babies. Write your own best selling book then and mention whoever the heck you want. I don't think Scott Jurek is losing any sleep over not being mentioned in Dean's book. After waiting over an hour in line we finally got to meet him. He turned out to be a very nice laid back guy. So nice in fact most of the people in the line didn't get a chance to meet him because he talked so much with everybody he ran out of time.
After the expo Mike and I checked into our hotel room. That night we got a little jog in on the treadmill at the hotel's fitness center to loosen up, took a swim at the indoor pool, and played an intense game of ping pong. We went to bed early and got up early. We were staying near Midway airport in Chicago which is about nine miles from the start of the race. We had to catch the train by 5:45AM to ensure we made it to the race on time. We stepped off the train and started making our way toward the starting line. The streets were packed. There were somewhere around 46,000 runners slated to run the race that year in Chicago and the city expected around a million and a half spectators along the course. The weather was unseasonably warm that day somewhere around 68 degrees when we stepped off the train. As we neared the start Mike and I both needed to use the restroom.
Anyone who has run a marathon knows that the port-a-potties near the start of the race always have a line and are always pretty disgusting. Mike and I got in line around 6:15AM. The lines were so long that we could have used some of those railings you see at amusement parks to wind in and out of. It took nearly 45 minutes before we reached the "on deck" spot. By that time I really needed to go (by the way this was number two not number one). The doors of the two port-a-potties flung open in front of us and we quickly moved toward them. The women that was in the stall Mike was going into handed him a large wad of wet wipes which turned out to be more valuable than gold that morning. As I walked into my stall I could not believe my eyes (or nose for that matter).
As a former Marine who had to burn his own feces with diesel fuel, I have seen my share of bad port-a-potties, turns out all of the ones I had seen weren't that bad. It was completely disgusting in that stall. There was no toilet paper, there was literally human waste (both number one and two) everywhere including on the seat and floor, and the smell almost made me pass out. I decided there was no way I could use that stall. I walked out and waited for Mike. He came out and told me how the wet wipes saved his life in his stall. That was the beginning of a very long race day for me.
We were running short on time because of the bathroom lines and had to rush to get to the start of the race. With that amount of people running it is quite the feat to find a way into the starting chute. Mike and I ended up having to climb a fence to get into the chute. We were yelled at by race workers but it had to be done. The starting chute was like a heavy metal mosh pit except there was no band playing. Runners were trying to stretch and remove excess clothing while pressed up against each other like sardines. I was ready for the race to get underway. I still had to go to the bathroom and figured I would hit a port-a-potty a few miles into race.
Since we had jumped the fence we were fairly close to the actual starting line. The race started and we began the marathon shuffle toward the start. It took us eight and a half minutes to cross the starting line. Once we were out of the starting chute we had a little room to spread out. Mike said good luck and took off. I was on my own (well as on my own as I could be with 45,999 other runners around me). I was already miserable from the whole bathroom situation and it didn't get any better from there. My urge to go to the bathroom subsided a little once I started running, and I decided I would knock out a good amount of mileage before I stopped.
The temperature was quickly approaching 80 degrees and I was not feeling very confident about the race. I already some feeling of fatigue in my legs and I had only covered eight miles. I was also becoming very annoyed with all of the other runners around me. Chicago has so many runners that unless you are leading the race, you are shoulder to shoulder basically the whole way. The aid stations that serve water and Gatorade are a quarter mile or so long just to ensure everyone can get in and get a drink. At around 12 miles I was drenched in sweat and decided it was time for that bathroom break. I ducked into a port-o-potty and spent somewhere between 10 and 15 minutes in there. It was like a sauna and I started to sweat even more.
I finally finished in the bathroom and started running again. During races I like to carry a small mp3 player and set of headphones with me. I rarely run with headphones, but like to put them on for the last three or so miles of a marathon. I blast some crazy metal and let the music carry me in. I was at mile 14 and feeling pretty crappy. I was becoming dehydrated and my legs were already tired. I decided that I needed something to get me through the rest of the race. I chose to put in the headphones. I felt it would help me forget about the other runners crowding me and carry me the next 12 miles to the finish.
The headphones weren't miracle workers by any means, but they definitely helped a little bit. For the last 12 miles of the race I jogged and walked intermittently. It felt like an eternity in between mileage markers. I was constantly scanning the road in the distance for the next marker. I eventually made it to mile 25 and was relieved I only had a mile to go. The temperature was around 82 degrees and I was completely dry, not a good sign. I had stopped sweating miles before that and all of the liquid had evaporated from my skin leaving little salt crystals everywhere on my body. I was not prepared for the heat and definitely should have drank more during the race.
I finally crossed the finish line five hours and sixteen minutes after I had started the race. I was glad to be done. I went to hunt down my cousin Mike so we could hop on the train back to the hotel. It took at least another 25 minutes after I had finished to find Mike at our meeting spot. He told me he was worried about me as he had been waiting there for over and hour and a half. I told him how crappy the race went for me and we started making our way back to the hotel.
As we walked to the train I was glad I had ran Chicago once, but knew I would be unlikely to return. It is amazing to see that many people running 26.2 miles and that many spectators cheering runners on, but it was a bit much for me. I was happy to have Chicago behind me and was already thinking about the Columbus marathon I was set to run seven days later. We made it back to the hotel, showered, packed our things, and got on our way back home. Mike dropped me off at my car in Gary, and yes it was still there unscathed, and I drove back to Toledo.
I was sitting around my apartment that evening and was not happy with my performance in the race that morning. I was concerned that if I ran that poorly in Chicago I might repeat a poor performance in Columbus the following week. I decided that as a fail safe I needed to add another marathon after Columbus. I started browsing the upcoming marathons online and saw that the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon was being held Saturday November 6th, 20 days after Columbus. It was perfect. I had three weeks to train after Columbus and my cousin Mike lived in Indianapolis so I had a place to stay. I signed up immediately. I told Mike I was running the race and needed a place to stay and he said he would run it too.
I was happy to have another race to make up for my poor performance in Chicago, but had Columbus to think about first. I had six days until I stepped onto the course in the capital of Ohio and I was determined to improve from my five and a quarter hour time.
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