The Chicago Marathon
2:39:38 (PR), 6:05 pace, 180 place overall, 3rd Illinois Age
The whole concept me running a 2:39:38 marathon AND an 82 second negative split is still absolutely mind blowing to me.
Five years ago, I did something that I thought I'd never do... nor ever cared to do. I ran a marathon. It was one of the worst experiences of my life! I cursed the thing many times over. I finished in 3 hours, 39 minutes and change. A few years and 9 marathons later, and I've dropped an hour off that time!! AN HOUR! UnFuckingBelievable! So much for a kid that could've cared less about running when he was growing up. It's taken a week to let this set in, and I'm still having difficulty grasping it.
I'll try to give a recount of how I remember it, but really that's just a memory at this point... and a hazed one full of lactic acid, at that. To have experienced it was quite different. That can be said for any race or marathon.
The whole thing literally just flew by. The anticipation and days leading up to the race absolutely crawled. The waiting game was brutal. Then the miles, which may seem like they dragged on, unfolded so quickly. In reality, it was a very short experience in life. It's one of those things that I couldn't wait until it was over with, but now I absolutely regret wishing it away. I wish I could go back and enjoy every step and breath I took. I want to re-experience the numerous feelings of anxiety, joy, pain, fear, uncertainty, confidence, my runner’s high, and camaraderie,
...and now elation....
I nearly missed my alarm in the morning. Luckily my back-up woke me at 5:35. Thank you, trusty Ironman! The race started at 7:30, and Chris was going to be here in a 40 minutes; I needed to get moving. I packed my gear the night before but still triple checked it. I showered up quickly, and wolfed down a bagel w/ peanut butter and a shot of espresso... and I was out the door. No time to think, just go.
It was a cold 35 degrees, but the wind actually "wasn't all that bad". In Chicago terms, that means it wasn’t a 20mph steady in-your-face-all-the-time wind... only maybe 5-10mph. It was coming out of the North-West. It would hurt late in the race, but if we’re gonna have to have it, we wanted a NW breeze. ...Immediate relief came to me when I walked outside and realized the weather wasn't gonna be a game breaker.
Chris's girlfriend was dropping us off near the starting area. Grant Park was its usual pre-marathon madhouse. 40,000 wiry runners were bouncing all around. Bathrooms and gear checks were a mess; people were doing pointless warm-ups, and stupid pre-race rituals. We were among them. I must have peed 10 times. I choked down Gatorade and a banana. I layered on clothing, only to pitch it all a little later at the starting line. We left our bags at the gear check, and made our way into the "A" corral to meet up with Verdo.
At that point, nothing else mattered. There was no turning back. I completely blocked out the rest of the world. A bomb could’ve exploded somewhere, and I didn’t care (as long as it didn’t interfere with the course). When we finally got into the corral, we had 15 minutes for the gun. Now the waiting game really began. The anticipation and anxiety swelled with every minute. I pealed my extra layers of clothing. I needed to keep my heart rate down, but the cold didn't help. I tried to stop thinking. It was all just a waste of calories.
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My race plan was simple: split it as close as I could to 1:20:30, and then throw whatever I had at it in the second half. So easy to say, not so easy to do. In the back of my mind, my most aggressive goal was to roll a 2:39:59. It was going to require a 1 minute negative split in the race. All in, 6:06 average pace... but 6:08.5 through the split, then 6:03.5 to the finish. That thought made me sick. My conscious wanted me to just lay up, and keep it even in the second half. 2:41 would be fine. That would be a nice PR. It was a safer bet. I've never run a negative split in the marathon, in spite of trying. My conscious was being a pussy. In the minutes before the gun, I had to keep telling myself, "Don't think, just do." Stay calm. I had miles of miles in the last 10 months... I had no game breakers today.... I had to go for it. Stay in control, and patience would be rewarded.
Chris was to pace me through the first 8, then I'd pick up Jason around 18 and he'd work with me until 25. Verdo had just run the Berlin Marathon 3 week earlier, so I wasn't sure what to expect from him. I had a feeling that he'd try to go a little faster if he was feeling good, or he'd just hang with me through the half and see what happens after that. I wasn't banking on him though, he had his own plans in the back of his mind.
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When the gun went off, I remember being very surprised. It's not as if I didn't know it was coming, I think I just lost myself in the moments before the race. I became very calm. All of a sudden, we were off.
It took 15 seconds to get across the starting line. We probably could’ve gotten closer, but it didn’t matter. As annoying as it may have been, the crowd around us actually helped to keep the reigns in for a little while. The first 1/2 mile was spent weeding through that congestion.
Mile 1 - 6:26.8 - Slow but ok.
Mile 2 - 6:12.1 - A little smoother...
Chris, Verdo, myself, and another guy trying to run with Verdo all worked together. We started slower than we wanted, but I found comfort in that. My heart wasn't shooting through my chest. I didn't go anaerobic out of the gate. I have a feeling that played a huge factor in with me having a successful race.
We ripped down State Street, made our way to LaSalle, and started head out of the loop. The hoards of people spectating in the loop were crazy, as usual. Crowds were deep and the sounds were like deafening walls all along side the first 3 miles. Once we got out of the Loop, it didn't seem quite as chaotic as I remembered in the past. That's a cost of running as aggressive as we were. Most spectators cheer the masses.
Mile 3 - 6:06.2 - Perfect!
We may have gotten a little anxious in the next mile, as we jumped from pack to pack, to avoid some of the headwinds.
Mile 4 - 5:59.6. Too fast, too soon!
If I wasn't careful, this would get out of hand and I'd be dragged to a sub 120 half. That wasn't my plan. We entered Lincoln Park running with a small pack, and not many other runners around. A decision had to be made. Stick with the pack and be protected from some of the light headwinds, or relax, set my own pace, and hope that Chris could and I could manage the wind on our own.
I let the horse race go. Chris stayed with me and we watched them slowly pull away. We were on our own now, with only a few stragglers in front of or behind us.
Mile 5 - 6:09.4 - Much better. Give some back after last mile.
Gave a nod as I passed my apartment.
Mile 6 - 6:06.7 - Perfect.
Chris was immensely helpful by now. I became very comfortable and just followed his lead. We worked along side one another most of the time, but if a wind came he often jumped in front of me. We were slowly picking off the victims of Verdo's pack from ahead. Some of these poor souls (or soles?) went out too fast. A few joined us only to fall off a couple miles later; Verdo's machine continued to pull away.
Mile 7 - 6:09.2 - GU#1; nice work considering the wind.
By now, we were onto Broadway and rolling South. The infamous party in Boystown was just getting started, but they really weren’t ready for the early runners. It was surprisingly quite through this area. It didn’t matter. I was starting to get into the zone.
Mile 8 - 6:09.8
Chris’s selfless pace making task was finished. He got me through 8, and then jumped off at Belmont. His presence was much appreciated. I remember feeling nervous as he left. The easy stuff was done. Now it was time to go to work.
I had 10 miles before I’d see Jason. I needed to start plugging away where I could. A couple guys were around me, but it really seemed like a free-for-all; road kills and killers. Nobody wanted to slay it together for the next several miles. Verdo was easily 20 seconds ahead of me, and after his pack it was very sparse. I just set it on cruise control, and let my stride do its job. For the next 17 miles, I only recall being passed a few times – and anyone that did pass me, I killed them later... with the exception of 1 or 2 guys.
Mile 9 - 6:05.6 - Rolled over Clark and Fullerton - my backyard.
Crowds in the Lincoln Park neighborhood picked me up a lot! I started seeing people on the sides that I recognized. Rock on.
Mile 10 - 6:02.5
I wound through Oldtown, and got a big boost from the people around the Fleet Feet corner. Seeing more teammates and friends on the sidelines was very encouraging. In spite of dropping some slightly faster miles in here, I felt great.
Mile 11 - 6:04.7
I had to pull back a little after Oldtown. I didn’t want to over do it.
Mile 12 - 6:10.2 - Regroup & Hill (my slowest mile of the marathon).
Up and over the Franklin Street bridge. Its one of the few "hills" on the course. It really isn’t that significant, but it did require me to change my effort and stride. I had been on flat ground for so long, that the change was welcoming.
Crowds became deafening again as I re-entered the loop. This was awesome! It would be some of the densest crowds I would see. Literally thousands of people were crammed in on the sidewalks, screaming and cheering. Very cool considering there weren’t many of us passing through. It was difficult to hold their energy back and keep things in control.
Just to show how differently some guys choose to run races, the fellows in the above pictures all went through the split around the same time as I did. I may have put a few seconds on them, but not much. They had been in my sights for a few miles, and sometimes even pacing with me. They were dead after the loop. Bib 909 finished 2:47; Bib 1341 finished 2:43. Not very clean races. To the best of my recollection, in the second half of the race, I was only passed by 1 guy – and it took him over 10 miles to finally do it.
Mile 13 - 6:08.3
HALF SPLIT - 1:20:29 - I mean I went out honestly thinking 1:20:30 for the split. Obviously not everything was the same exact pace, since we were slow in early miles, but could have I possibly timed it any better?? Fucking incredible!! I was completely shocked from what I saw.
Verdo went through the split maybe 20 seconds ahead of me. I could barely see him on this long straight-away. It looked like he was still rolling in a decent sized pack. I think he shredded it up, because that was the last time I saw him.
Heading West away from the Loop, the wind picked up again. Spectators dwindled. Aside from Verdo’s group, it was a single filed line of runners.
I was passed by Bib #725. That was the first time I was passed in a while. He wasn’t rolling much faster than I was; yet he was clearly strong and put about 10m on me. If I was going to man up, and try to go negative, I needed some help - and NOW. I couldn’t sit back and wait for someone else to come along. He was all I had. I made the move and jumped on his back.
Mile 14 - 6:02.2 - It hurt with the wind, but it had to be done; GU#2 down the hatch.
We exchanged the lead a few times as the wind became more annoying. We were approaching the Bonks’ville... the place where so many make it to, yet so few make it through feeling strong. This is typically the beginning of the end for most marathoners. If you don’t feel good by 15-18, then it’s not gonna be pretty! It wasn’t clear how long either one of us would last. I was still strong though; and if he kept rolling up on me, then he was too.
His shirt said something like "Running for Dad Turner" with a DOB/DOD, and he was from Arizona. A nice gesture, considering most guys running this fast don't often give up real estate on their singlets. "Turner" commented to me that this wind was annoying, and said he didn’t think it was supposed to be windy today-? I said, "Welcome to Chicago racing."
Mile 15 - 6:09.9 - Lots of head wind, but we turned at the end of the mile.
We started heading back into the city. Turner was now in front of me. For the first time, I actually felt like I was starting to get into a race... as opposed to a mere execution of miles. I didn't want to go too hard too soon, but this was the beginning of some big kills. A number of the guys that had been with Verdo or between us, were slowly blowing up. Turner and I were picking them off. Just rolling right by them with ease. Some would try to run with us, but nobody would hang on.
Mile 16 - 6:06.6
Turner lit the fire. That was exactly what I needed. I took the lead and charged down the rest of Jackson to Halsted. He would ride on my back or at my side for most of the rest of the race. It eventually got annoying that he never took the lead, but he was still helping to push my effort. Cost benefit analysis: I’d rather have him than not have him. Some tail wind also helped a little for the 17th mile. I was slowly getting my shit together.
Mile 17 - 6:00.9
We killed probably 10 runners in that 2 mile stretch. I was still more concerned about pacing over killing though. As we entered University Village, I saw a giant prize up ahead! I couldn't ignore it. Two Brooks Hanson jerseys. It was one of the last girls on the course that I saw, with her pacer. She didn’t look like she was dying, but if she was going slower than us - then it wasn’t going as planned for a Brooks girl. Dead. I pulled up for a better look, then surged and dropped her. Turner matched my move. Monster Mike and some of the FF crew were on the sidelines screaming at me as it happened. I loved it!
Rounded the corner onto Taylor Street and headed away from the city again. I was looking for some help from Turner, but I got nothing. He clung to my shoulder and off my back. He wasn’t going carry any of the load as we went into the wind for the next mile. I needed to keep strong. Little Italy now. I saw the guy that started the race with us, and then hung with Verdo. I don’t recall his name, but he was a solid runner and he was toast. He even said it. I suspected that many of that pack were falling apart. We rolled on.
After the race, people complained about it being too cold for a marathon. It was 35 degrees. Sure there wind, but not blowing us off the course. All I could think of was my success back in the spring time - Cary and the Shamrock, as opposed to some of the heaters over the summer. I love racing in the cold! I don’t get dehydrated. This was my time to shine.
Mile 18 - 6:07.9 - The last of the wind for a while. It hurt. Turner didn’t help one bit.
I needed a breath of fresh energy. I knew that it would come. He had to be around here somewhere... He was waiting in the wings.
When I saw him towards the end of Taylor Street, where there were very few fans around. I was happy, but I was equally upset. I didn’t understand what he was doing. I thought he was making a mockery of my race. What the hell? Here I was, jamming 6 minute miles, 18 miles deep, trying to do meticulously execute something here, and "You are dressed as fucking Batman!?.... Dude?!?"
It took me a minute to settle down, and stop cussing and laughing. The crowds were scarce at the moment, so I didn’t get it right away. Then someone screamed at the top of his lungs, "GO BATMAN!!!!" This wasn’t a cheer for someone I didn’t know and didn’t like. I couldn't disapprove. He was screaming for the guy that was trying to help me. It became clear... I had my Dark Knight.
The masked man and I were going to blaze the streets. Turner would ride on our tails. We surged.
Pilsen was first to see us. About a half-mile stretch, and they fucking lit up!! Since there weren’t many other runners around us, it meant that much more to have the crowds get into the cheering.
Mile 19 - 5:58.5
Mile 20 - 6:02.2 - 2:02:19 deep, 10K in 38 min if I could hang on; Gu#3.
We passed a handful of guys since picking up Jason. We were just getting started. Turner clipped my heel. He was wearing out his welcome now that I had someone else to work with. He still never took the lead. He knew it, but he needed us and we were still stronger together.
Jason then asked an interesting question, "Do you want Verdo?" The thought didn’t even occur to me. I couldn’t see him, and I didn’t care. Jason said he was a minute ahead, and if we pushed then we might be able to catch him. I didn't want this to get out of control. I told him to keep it nice and steady. The last thing I needed was to start dropping 5:50's. Let him come to us. He merely became a target of a guy that I could've been running with, had I not stuck to my plan.
Mile 21 - 5:58.2
Chinatown blew up as we rolled through. They loved the Caped Crusader! The dragon was out in the streets, people were screaming at the tops of their lungs. Drums were beating. It was a very festive place for Batman and anyone else around him to be running. It made me smile and grimace at the same time... Was I happy or was I tired?
The first 21 miles weren’t a big deal. They rolled by. I barely flinched. This was starting to become a task now. Nothing was nagging. It was tiring and dealing with my old friend, Lactic Acid. Muscles were becoming numb. Arms started to weigh more. Foot falls became work. Ignore the pain and just follow the leader. Don't think, just run. We immediately took a few more road kills. There weren’t many left.
Mile 22 - 5:57.6
We ran along the Dan Ryan expressway for the next mile. This is typically a dead-zone for any crowd support of any kind. Runners become victim of their own mental collapse. Jason said "Lookie what I see!" To my surprise, Verdo was up ahead. I tried to ignore it. I wanted to ignore everything.
When we approached the turn at 33rd St, typically one of the most barren parts of the Chicago Marathon and only places where you could usually hear a pin drop... all we could hear was utter chaos. Music was blaring; easily a couple thousand people lined the street and overpass; a guy was screaming over a loud speaker... He kept hammering, "Batman and Robin everyone!!" The place absolutely exploded!! "Batman and Robin!"
It was impossible to ignore that thunderous mass! They practically threw us a half mile, from Wentworth to State Street.
Mile 23 - 05:56.6
I was exhausted after that. Once it quieted down to a thin line of fans on the streets, I had a brush back with reality. "I was blowing out sub 6 minute miles, Jesus." The lactic acid was real by now. No cramps though. Still OK. I told myself that I could deal with "only Lactic Acid." I didn’t want to think. Thinking burns calories. I didn’t have any calories to burn.
Verdo was getting closer now, he was 50m away. Then all of a sudden, Turner manned up. He was no joke either. He was done with us. As we turned from State onto 35th, he took us out. I felt was so used. That bastard. Ride on my ass for 11 miles, and now he crushes me. Sandbaggin, son of a bitch.
Jason recognized that I wasn't going to match him, so we kept it steady. We hit Michigan Ave. Wind immediately blasted us in the face. He jumped in front. I had to swat his cape a couple times. It was funny, but I didn’t have the energy to waste playing silly games.
About 3 1/2 miles to go. The next 2 or 2 1/2 would be the most difficult miles of the course. I needed to be strong as we approached to Verdo. I wanted him to work with us. I wanted to help him. I wanted him to help me. In my years of running, I’ve learned one very important thing: this is not an individual’s sport. It’s a collective effort. You’re stronger as a whole than as one. Unfortunately, it was too late here. We passed him, and he slowly fell of the back.
Mile 24 - 6:01.8 - Slow pace due to the wind.
No more water or Gatorade! I had my fill from all of the earlier stations. I had been drinking a little every other mile until now. I actually couldn't remember the last time I took any Gatorade? Maybe a couple stations ago? It didn't matter. The thought of it now made me sick, and yet these kids were crowding into the middle of the street trying to force it down my throat. No more! This was like letting go of my binky. I knew if it wasn’t in my tank now, with a little over 2 miles to go, then it wasn’t going to help.
We crossed over the Rte 55 expressway. My heart was pounding. Everything hurt now. The simple front-to-back and repeat movement was all I could do. I rode on Batman’s cape as much as I could. I tried to ignore everything else. Shut it all out. Jason not-so-kindly reminded me that the race wasn’t over yet. Many people quit here. Some very good runners. We were passing a number of them. We blew by Joe Guinness, another fellow Fleet Feet runner. Joe’s a much better runner than I am. He must have been having a very bad day; I was having a very good day.
Mile 25 - 06:02.4 - Wind.
I felt like molasses. Still, we blew by a guy that was hunched over, staggering. The lactic acid had become too much for him. His body was shutting down. I tried not look, for fear I'd become infected by his plague. I wasn’t ready to quit. No matter the struggle, I wasn't done. We were still maintaining pace, albeit with more effort. I knew at that moment that I was strong. Unlike 99.99% of people at this point of a marathon: I had confidence.
We passed by Pflip’s place, and amongst the masses of spectators was a whole crew of my friends going totally berserk as they saw Jason and I hammer by.
Jason turned to me, and screamed at the top of his lungs, "GOOO!!! Go into it! You’ve got 2:40, but you’re not done yet! Don’t give it up! GET AFTER IT!!!" He pealed off. I had just under a mile to go on my own.
It was like a rocket being fired out of a cannon!! Looking back at my splits, it didn’t improve much or at all. Mostly because of wind and Roosevelt hill, but the effort and intensity went through the roof. I felt like I was going faster then, than at any point during the race.
Crowds were ear-piercing by now. Didn’t matter. I was blind, deaf, and dumb at this point. All that mattered was getting to the finish as fast as I possibly could. I used a few guys in front of me to pull my way through. They had nothing on me. I took them at the turn onto Roosevelt, and buried a slew up the hill.
I felt like molasses. Still, we blew by a guy that was hunched over, staggering. The lactic acid had become too much for him. His body was shutting down. I tried not look, for fear I'd become infected by his plague. I wasn’t ready to quit. No matter the struggle, I wasn't done. We were still maintaining pace, albeit with more effort. I knew at that moment that I was strong. Unlike 99.99% of people at this point of a marathon: I had confidence.
We passed by Pflip’s place, and amongst the masses of spectators was a whole crew of my friends going totally berserk as they saw Jason and I hammer by.
Jason turned to me, and screamed at the top of his lungs, "GOOO!!! Go into it! You’ve got 2:40, but you’re not done yet! Don’t give it up! GET AFTER IT!!!" He pealed off. I had just under a mile to go on my own.
It was like a rocket being fired out of a cannon!! Looking back at my splits, it didn’t improve much or at all. Mostly because of wind and Roosevelt hill, but the effort and intensity went through the roof. I felt like I was going faster then, than at any point during the race.
Crowds were ear-piercing by now. Didn’t matter. I was blind, deaf, and dumb at this point. All that mattered was getting to the finish as fast as I possibly could. I used a few guys in front of me to pull my way through. They had nothing on me. I took them at the turn onto Roosevelt, and buried a slew up the hill.
Mile 26 - 6:02.5 - Hill.
I finished the hill, and rounded the corner onto Columbus. My heart was screaming out of my chest. My body wanted it to be over. This push wasn't kind. My mind wouldn’t let go. I barreled down the straight. One last guy in front of me, but there was no way I could catch him. He kicked just as hard as I did.
A hundred meters to go now. All in. Every second counts. I saw the clock as I approached the finish line, and I knew - I was under 2:40!
Finish read 2:39:52, but I had 15 seconds of cushion on the clock. 2:39:38 was the official time.
I finished the hill, and rounded the corner onto Columbus. My heart was screaming out of my chest. My body wanted it to be over. This push wasn't kind. My mind wouldn’t let go. I barreled down the straight. One last guy in front of me, but there was no way I could catch him. He kicked just as hard as I did.
A hundred meters to go now. All in. Every second counts. I saw the clock as I approached the finish line, and I knew - I was under 2:40!
Finish read 2:39:52, but I had 15 seconds of cushion on the clock. 2:39:38 was the official time.
I couldn’t believe it. I fucking crushed that thing!!
Turner finished about 40 seconds ahead of me - he had to have thrown down sub-5:50’s in the last 2-3 miles to get that. I never saw him in the chutes to Congratulate him / Thank him / Tell him "You’re welcome!"
Verdo rolled up a few guys behind me. As much as he hates to admit it, he had an awesome race considering he just ran 2:47 in Berlin a few weeks earlier. He split in 1:20:08, and finished 2:39:58. An 18 second negative split! Very solid, though I know he wanted faster and was disappointed.
Split recap:
.......SPLIT.../...LAP.../...PACE
5K – 0:19:22 /19:22 / 6:14
10K - 0:38:18 / 18:56 / 6:06
15K - 0:57:21 / 19:03 / 6:08
20K - 1:16:22 / 19:01 / 6:07
HALF - 1:20:29 / 6:08
25K - 1:35:19 / 18:57 / 6:06
30K - 1:54:09 / 18:50 / 6:04
35K - 2:12:45 / 18:36 /5:59
40K - 2:31:22 / 18:37 / 6:00
2nd HALF - 1:19:09 / 6:02
OVERALL - 2:39:38 / 6:05.3
82 second negative split!
180th Place out of 34,000 finishers
169th Male, only 11 Women ahead of me
32nd Age Group
3rd State/Age
An absolutely perfectly executed race!!
If I was an artist, this would be my masterpiece.
When I finished the race, I still had energy. For some dumb reason, just like after Boston... I felt great! I trotted through the recovery area. I bounced around for a few minutes. I eventually settled down, and received a great big hug and kiss from Sarah at the end of the recovery area. Chris Woods was also waiting there - no kisses for him, but definitely a hug.
Once I calmed down - I recognized how cold it actually was. I mean 35 degrees in a singlet and short shorts isn't all that comfortable. The pain would soon settle in, but it was soooooo worth it!
After party at Stanley’s was as nuts as a bunch of tired marathoners could’ve made it. Many beers, and a giant team Car Bomb in honor of numerous PR’s.
A huge thank you to all of my friends that braved the cold and came out to cheer on the runners on! Especially thank you to Jason and Chris for pacing me though the thing. You immensely helped!
A week later, and I'm still on cloud-9.
It was truly MY CHICAGO MARATHON.
