I ran the Chicago Marathon this past Sunday, finishing in 3:44:12, which was good enough to win the Women's T35-38 division.
This is the fourth time I've run Chicago, and each time I've experienced it completely differently. My first time, back in 2016, was as part of the regular (open) field. Then in 2022, I ran it as part of what was then entitled the American Development Program (now High Performance). In 2023 I returned to run in the Abbot World Marathon Majors Age Group Championships. This year, I ran Chicago for the first time in the para-athlete field.
Essentially, I've sampled all of the different security gates of Grant Park on Chicago Marathon race morning. I'm not sure that's the same as being a 50 state marathoner or a 6 Star finisher, but I think it's kinda cool.
I've always loved this marathon course, as it really suits me. I like flat races (yes, I know most people do) and I also like how the course has enough turns to keep things interesting, but the turns are not so tight as to slow one down. The addition of substantial prize money for the para-athlete divisions ($2500 to the winner) this year made returning to Chicago irresistible.
So, after a training cycle that I was really happy with, both because I felt like my fitness had improved substantially and because I had somehow made it through a fall cycle without getting sick, I hopped on a plane to Chicago, landing at O'Hare on Friday afternoon.
So that was Friday. Saturday was a 3 mile shakeout, bib pick-up, stretching, and Chipotling. While picking up my number, I started chatting with the volunteer who was handling bibs (there was a separate bib pick up for para-athletes, and nobody was waiting behind me). She casually mentioned that her daughter was a wheelchair athlete and was racing also. I asked for her daughter's name - perhaps I knew her?
The answer: Tatyana McFadden. Um, yeah, I had heard of her. This was the cue for an awkward bit of fangirling on my part that ended when the para-athletics director came over to ask if I could be at the para-athlete holding area early tomorrow for an equipment check.
[editorial note: Deborah McFadden is no slouch either - Google her.]
***
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Some time ago, in anticipation of a way-too-warm and sunny marathon, I purchased a white singlet in a cooling fabric and had the Capital Area Runners logo added to it. Our traditional singlet is red with a white logo on it, and I've worn some version of that top for every race for the last 10+ years. But I was worried about Chicago's weather and hoped that by assembling and packing an alternate singlet specifically targeted for hot and sunny I would ensure a clammy overcast day instead. (
See, e.g., Boston 2018 when I caused the coldest most miserable race ever by sauna training in the weeks before).
Unfortunately, this strategy failed me. I held off as long as I could and then conceded defeat on Saturday. I emailed my coach to ask if I he was OK with me wearing white with the team logo in red instead. He signed off on it as a one-time exception, so I was good to go. Of course, there was the small
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concern that I had never actually worn the white singlet and thus was violating that whole "nothing new on race day" thing. But I decided to go for it - the worse case scenario would be some chafing, and I could live with that.
***
Chicago's set up for ambulatory para-athletes differs from Boston's. Instead of our own wave that preceded the main race, the instructions advised that most of us would be starting at the end of Wave 1 (a few with seed times faster than 3:30 would be starting ahead in the corrals that matched their seed times).
As of Saturday afternoon, I knew that:
- most para-athletes (including me) would be starting between 7:50 and 8:00 am
- I had to be at the Art Institute of Chicago (the holding area for the para-athletes) by 6:15 am
- It was strongly recommended that I get to the Art Institute much earlier - 5:30-5:40 am would be ideal.
(This last point was because I was hoping to set the marathon World Record mark for women's T36 at this race and needed to be available for an equipment check.)
Based on that information, I planned out my race morning schedule:
- 3:30 am - take first dose of Rytary 145
- 4:00 am - breakfast, then stretch/mobilize
- 5:00 am - leave for Art Institute
- 5:30 am - arrive at Art Institute
- ???
- 7:40 am - second dose of Rytary 145
- ~7:50-8:00 am - start the marathon.
Bedtime was, of course, at 7:30 pm. I tend to avoid reading about either running or Parkinsons before big races, so I read a few chapters of Tim Pope's I Shoot Rock Stars before drifting off to "non-restorative" sleep per my Garmin.
***
As always, race morning dawned way too early. I medicated and ate and stretched per schedule (Underworld's Dirty Epic sifting from my headphones into my brain to get me into the right rhythm for racing a marathon.) Around 5 am I did a final check - shoes, bib, water bottle, gels, meds, hotel key card) and then headed out. The walk to the L station was cooler than I expected - perhaps my singlet trick had worked after all.
At 5:30 am, getting through security into Grant Park was quick and easy, as was finding the Art Institute. I checked in and then found a seat in one of the many classrooms - not coincidentally it was the one where two other runners with Parkinsons - Dan and Steve - had already set up camp. I waited here so that I could be checked by the technical delegate. Save for a few bathroom breaks, I stayed in that room until 7 am when it was time to walk to the start line. At which point I learned that I had been mistaken and didn't need to be checked after all. Which was good (since I hadn't been checked) but also unfortunate in that I had missed my window to do my mobilization/warm-up routine.
But it was what it was, and using the first two miles as a warm-up wasn't the worst way to start a marathon on a warm day.
The para-athlete/adaptive athlete contingent were escorted to an area just outside of Corral A, with portable metal gates separating us from them. I found a short sidewalk and jogged back and forth some to loosen up - not ideal, but better than nothing. Then I joined everyone else and watched the start of the Chicago Marathon from a prime location. The wheelchair racers started, and then the ambulatory elites. Then the gun went off for the open field, and the corrals began shuffling towards the start line.
***
I had assumed that the para and adaptive athletes were our own corral, and that we would start as a group at the back of Wave 1. I was wrong. Instead, we had our choice of when to start. There was a small gap in the gates that separated us from the corrals/main starting area, with two volunteers serving as gatekeepers. As each corral jogged past, the gatekeepers would announce that corral. Anyone who wanted/needed to start in that corral would then step through the gap and join that corral en route to the start line.
As I watched the waves of runners and debated when to jump in, I realized that my bladder was full again. Given the unique set up of this start, I probably could have stepped away to a nearby Portajohn for 20 seconds. But....I decided to hold it instead. My experience on warm days has been that a full bladder will eventually recede when running, as the body reclaims the water. So...the first few miles would be a bit uncomfortable, but I might appreciate it later.
[Rather than give you a mile by mile description of my need to pee, I'll just note that by mile 10 the urge was totally gone. And in retrospect, I think carrying this extra bit of hydration helped my race.]
With the bladder concern decided (though not remedied), I watched runners flow to the start line in front of me. When the 3:30 pacers appeared, I took a deep breath and reminded myself to always trust my instincts. Then I thanked the gatekeeping volunteers and stepped through the gap to join the thousands shuffle-jogging towards the starting mats 30 meters away.
***
The first mile of the Chicago Marathon passes beneath the Chicago River. This underpass is notorious for screwing up Garmin signals. This time, it was also surprisingly humid. Oppressive, even. As we ascended the very slight incline back up to street level, the humidity dissipated, but the feel of that first mile solidified my race plan.
As always, I was pacing this marathon by effort and wouldn't look at my watch until I crossed the finish. On good weather days, my golden rule of marathon pacing is to do whatever I have to do (in terms of pacing, nutrition, hydration) to get to the half-marathon mark feeling good, and then I can start thinking about racing.
Given the weather, I'd go more conservative - 16 miles was the point where I still had to feel really good and like I was recreational rather than racing. At that point I'd start to think about picking it up but would continue to listen to my instincts rather than speeding up just because I was supposed to. I had learned my lesson from the DC Half.
***
I got a few miles in and realized I had screwed up in a very awkward way - I hadn't pulled the drawstring on my shorts tight enough. This meant that my gels (which were pinned to my shorts) were gradually pulling my shorts down. And the pinned gels were also starting to flop around and get really annoying.
I fiddled with my shorts while running and then reluctantly stepped off to the side to fix them. Definitely not what I wanted to do, but 20+ miles is a long way to go with your shorts falling down. Based on my Garmin report, it looks like I lost about 20 seconds doing this. It was definitely worth it.
With that problem fixed, I turned my attention back to my race. And more specifically, to taking my gels (even though I felt fine) and sipping from my water bottle. The streets were crowded with other runners, making it harder to dodge potholes or find space on the carpets that only covered part of the metal grate bridges that dot the early miles of this marathon. But...this is what I had been training for (specifically, running on uneven surfaces in crowds) so time to put it to practice.
***
The next miles were on autopilot - I tried to expend as little mental energy as possible while continuing to cruise, eat, and drink. Even just a few miles into the race, some people were already starting to struggle.
It was at this point that I realized that my decision to wear the optional "physical impairment" bib on my back had an unintended consequence - when I passed people a few surged aggressively to keep up with me. I'm guessing that being passed by someone with a physical impairment bib just added insult to injury (that wasn't my intent in wearing the bib - I just wanted to make sure people knew my gait wasn't always predictable). I felt a little bad for unintentionally provoking someone into blowing up their own race, but I guess they were ultimately responsible for their own choices.
I was draining my water bottle surprisingly fast, requiring me to refill it at the many water stations on course (I was later told that there were 22 water stations out on course - nearly one for every mile). As I got to the 10 mile mark, I noted one of those new water bottle refill stations was just ahead of the next traditional water-in-cups station. More importantly, the refill station seemed much less crowded and chaotic than the cups station. So, I decided to try the refill station.
I was a skeptic but now am now completely sold. These are not like the water bottle refill stations one might encounter in the office. Instead, high pressure pushes the water out shockingly fast as soon as you pull the lever-thing (technical term). Refilling my bottle took exactly 2 seconds, with about 1.5 of those seconds being me figuring out how to pull the lever-thing. It was much faster, easier, and less stress than trying to grab a cup while jogging. I really hope these water bottle refill stations become standard at marathons.
***
I made it to the halfway mark feeling good, which seemed to put me in the minority. The marathon had been yellow-flagged at the start - meaning "less than ideal conditions." I didn't see any yellow flags after that point, which surprised me. I later realized that the race was red-flagged at that point - meaning "potentially dangerous conditions."
[I did note red flags during the rest of the race, I just thought that they were markers for medical aid stations. Oops.]
The further I got in the race, the more of an obstacle course it became. Many people were walking, and the course was crowded enough that they couldn't all walk on the side. The crowds of people cheering on the racers were also narrowing the course, creating bottlenecks at times.
Sponges with some sort of cooling fluid were being handed out, which was great for those who used them (I didn't try one). But those sponges were then dropped on the road - more stuff to have to navigate around - and the cooling fluid made the pavement slick in places.
And of course, the crazy compulsion that some people had to film themselves blowing up on course (or worse yet, have a friend film them struggling) added to the chaos. It was all very frustrating. But all of this was balanced out by the fact that I actually still felt in control and even strong. I was on top of my drinking and eating and had also discovered while running under an arc of water from a fire truck (thank you Chicago FD for your assistance) that my fancy white singlet felt like an ice vest when wet. Amazing.
At mile 16 I felt good enough that I could start picking it up, so I did. Only to find that there was no clear path to do so. I'd roll for about 30 seconds and then a gap ahead of me would close and I'd have to swerve to find another place to run. I can't really blame anyone else for this - everybody was just trying to do the best they could to get to the finish line. And though I was a bit frustrated that I didn't have room to run freely, I rationalized that I would much rather be the person who felt good and had to dodge others than the person who was barely getting one foot in front of the other.
That's how the rest of the race went. I was just starting to get a bit tired when I saw the final signs counting down the 400m marks to the finish line. The right turn to Mount Roosevelt (the ramp up into Grant Park, and the only real climb of the course) came up quickly. Mount Roosevelt felt a bit harder than I expected, but then I was at the top with the finish line about 200m ahead. I rolled into the finish and stopped my watch - 3:44 and change. Significantly slower than I had hoped to run when I entered, but I had also hoped for much better weather. Given the conditions, I was happy with it. And it also felt really good to finish a marathon feeling good and passing people all the way to the end.
Splits were:
First 5K - 29:03 (9:03 pace)
balance of Mile 4 - 7:36 (8:27 pace)
Mile 5 - 8:36
Mile 6 - 8:54 (fixing shorts)
Mile 7 - 8:26
Mile 8 - 8:33
Mile 9 - 8:21
Mile 10 - 8:22
Mile 11-12 - 17:22 (8:41 pace)
Mile 13 - 8:36
Mile 14 - 8:31
Mile 15 - 8:22
Mile 16 - 8:28
Mile 17 - 8:16
Mile 18 - 8:08
Mile 19 - 8:17
Mile 20 - 8:18
Mile 21 - 8:43 (stuck in big bottleneck behind walkers in narrow area)
Mile 22 - 8:20
Mile 23 - 8:13
Mile 24 - 8:24
Mile 25 - 8:19
Mile 26 plus finish - 10:07 (8:10 pace)
This was a negative split - 1:54:44/1:49:28. Some might say that I left time on the table splitting it that way. I disagree. I think going out harder would have resulted in me hemorrhaging time in the last 8-10 miles.
Other notes:
- When I started this race just before 8:00 am, it was 62 degrees with a dewpoint of 57. By the time I ended at 10:40 am, it was 73 degrees with a dewpoint of 61. Very little wind and also very little clouds. Some have mentioned high humidity, but I didn't really notice it except for the first mile. My hunch is that I'm just acclimated from training in dewpoints about 10-15 degrees higher than that all summer - for those in Chicago where anything over 60 is humid, the humidity probably felt much worse. I do think the sun was a major factor in why so many in the 3:30+ time frame struggled (I also think that my white singlet really saved the day here).
- After a hot and humid summer DC had really cooled down in the last week before this race. I deliberately overdressed in my last few runs (tights, jacket over longsleeve, gloved) and I think it helped me keep my acclimation.
- Total gels on course - 9. Most of these were GU Lemonade Rocktane (extra salty) but I did take a few Maurtens to balance them out. I also drank Maurten 320 on race morning for breakfast along with a small bit of oatmeal, and I think that helped also. The Maurten drink mix had plenty of carbs and hydration, and also kept my GI tract empty which meant that I absorbed my 7:40 am pre-race dose of Rytary really well.
- My 3:44:12 was good enough for the T35-38 division win, which I'm happy about - both because I like winning and because the $2500 in prize money just about covered my flight and hotel for the weekend (hotels anywhere within two miles of the start line were not cheap, and I didn't want to stay too far away because I had to be at the Art Institute early.
- Since I'm internationally classified as a para-athlete and Chicago met all the requirements for setting a World Para Athletics record, my time should also be either the World Record or the World Record Mark for the women's T36 division for the marathon distance. What's the difference? Well, on the track, the first time a distance is run by a classification, the time is called the record mark (after it's ratified). If/when someone runs faster, then that faster time is the world record, once ratified. Since this was the roads, I don't know if the same rule applies there.
To be honest, I don't like this rule very much. My dislike is unquestionably driven by self-interest, but I think there's also a real concern here - what if the world record mark ends up being an extremely fast time that is of reach for all others? Then you could have a situation where you could never recognize a world record for that distance, even though there might eventually be many valid performances recorded for that distance. That doesn't make sense to me.
I can see having a rule where there have to be at least two performances at a distance to recognize a world record. That makes some sense. But in that case just recognize the faster of the two performances once you have two.
In any event, the good news is that it was hot and I ran slow here. Hopefully next year I can run a WPA approved marathon on a record legal course in better weather while having the same or better fitness and run faster.
- After the marathon, and after I had confirmed that I wasn't going to be drug tested and had made my way back to my hotel and had showered and shipped a box of stuff home, I visited the Museum of Post-Punk and Industrial (honestly, this was my other reason for picking Chicago as my fall marathon). It was even cooler than the last time I visited.
After the tour I made Martin Atkins pose with me and my marathon medal. I'm not sure he was happy about it (the Venn diagram of marathon runners and industrial music fans is an extremely small one), but whatever. I was just being punk in my own way.
