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October 09, 2007

My (Brief, Unofficial) Chicago Experience

(Cross-posted at the regular ol' blog)

A number of people have asked about this, so rather than send out another 47 e-mails over the next few days, I'll just update everyone this way.

First, the important thing: I'm OK, and everyone I knew that was running on Sunday is OK. Some people finished (although about an hour slower than normal), some people got stuck on the rerouted/shortened course when they closed the race down, and some people pulled themselves from the race when they realized they weren't going to make their goal time and it wasn't worth it to them to suffer through the heat.

I wasn't officially running on Sunday - I didn't register for Chicago since my big race is going to be the New York Marathon next month. However, I had to run 18 miles anyway this weekend, so I offered to pace my friend, Barb, that would be running about the same pace that I do my training runs at. We ultimately worked out a plan that had me meeting her husband at mile 8 (which was right near my apartment), running with him through mile 18, then dropping him off there and waiting for Barb and running with her from 18 to the finish. I'd get my miles in, they'd have some company, everyone goes home happy.

On Saturday, I slept in and headed out for a quick 3.5 mile run around 10:30 or so. It was HOT. And humid. And assy. When I got home, I immediately sent an e-mail to Barb that said something like, "HOLY SHIT IT'S HOT OUT THERE, MAKE SURE YOU GUYS CARRY EXTRA WATER BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE." I did manage to refrain from adding, "Dude, this is EXACTLY like the weather we had in Madison last year and OH MY GOD DID THAT SUCK." After all, this was the day before the marathon. I was supposed to be supportive. Saying, "DUDE YOU GUYS ARE SOOOO FUCKED" is not exactly supportive. So I kept that to myself, but I was reallllly second-guessing my offer to run with them. Sure, I was glad that I wasn't going to have to get up at 4 a.m. to get my run in before it got hot, but, ugh, it was going to be hoooot. There was much whining, but I knew that if it was going to be that bad out there, they were going to need the moral support, and I wasn't going to leave them hanging.

Sunday morning I got up, ate, and loaded myself up for a long, hot, day. I had a bottle of Gatorade, a bottle of water, and money to buy more (since I hadn't paid to be in the race, I wasn't going to use any of the aid stations). I also had gels, a package of Clif Bloks, and some Nuun. The only thing I was missing were my soy sauce shooters - those little packets of soy sauce you get with take out Chinese. (A pace leader at Madison recommended them for extra salt during the race, and they're absolutely brilliant. For me, it's easier to get down liquid than to crunch on the salt in a salt packet. Yes, it tastes nasty, but it gets the job done and you just wash it down with a bunch of water. I love 'em.) (Yes, marathoners are crazy.) However, I figured I'd be OK since I had the Nuun, which is a sugar-free electrolyte supplement. Note for next time: I need the salt, especially in that sort of heat.

Once I was packed and ready to go, I headed down to the course to watch the wheelchair and elite athletes come through. My plan was to watch and cheer until Mike came by, then I'd jump in with him. I saw some people that looked really good, and a lot of people that already looked awful. I high-fived runners, I clapped, I yelled out the names of those that had them on their shirts... and I was sweating by 10 a.m., just from standing there. When the 4:30 pace group rolled on through, I started looking for Mike, but I didn't see him. I kept watching, and shortly after the 5:30 pace group came by I got a text from him saying he'd missed me. D'oh. I knew Barb's plan was to run with the 5:45 pace group, so I looked for her as they came through. I didn't see her with them, and since she wouldn't be looking for me that early in the course, I hopped in and started making my way to mile 18.

It was HOT. And it sucked. The good thing about carrying two bottles of water was I had to keep one in my hand, since my fuel belt/fanny pack only holds on bottle. With one bottle in my hand, I drank much more regularly than when I'm not holding on to it. I started with Gatorade and then switched to water when I started feeling a little over-sugared. I could tell when we were passing aid stations, because all of a sudden the ground would be absolutely carpeted with empty cups - I've never seen anything like it. The spectators were definitely out in full force, though. I saw a couple in front of a Walgreen's with a couple cases of bottled water handing it out to runners. There was a guy with a bag of ice, and once we turned off Clark Street onto residential side streets people had hoses and sprinklers out and were hosing runners down. About three miles into my run (near mile 11), we passed by an el station and I had the brief thought of just taking the train down to mile 18, because it was hot and awful. However, I had to get my miles in. Besides, if everyone else could run 26 miles in this heat, I could surely battle through 15-18.

By the time I hit mile 12, I noticed that the aid stations were out of Gatorade. They still had some water, but volunteers were either out of cups or couldn't get it into cups fast enough, so they were pouring it directly out of the jugs into water bottles or directly on the runners. It was a mess. I was already out of water, so I stopped in the next CVS to get more. They had 20 oz bottles on sale, so I grabbed two, even though it meant that I would have to carry a bottle in each hand (I hate carrying things while I run, partly because I tend to forget I'm holding on to something and drop it). I was glad I did, because I would go through all of it, and while there are plenty of convenience stores on the route in the first half of the race, there are very few places to stop and buy provisions on the second half of the course.

Somewhere along here I made the decision to cut my run down to 15 miles from 18. I'd run to mile 15 of the course, then cut directly south to 18 rather than going all the way around. Not only would I get a break on the distance, but it would give me some time to rest and rehydrate before I met up with Barb, since I wasn't sure how far behind me she was. As I got to mile 15, a volunteer was walking down the course shouting, "The marathon is over! You can walk!" The split clock at the mile marker read 3:41.

I texted Barb to find out where she was, and kept heading towards 18, just in case. I wasn't exactly sure what he meant by "it's over," so I just kept on going with the plan. After running for a couple of hours, I'm not exactly a nimble thinker. Just as I was getting to the mile 18 marker, Barb called to let me know that they were officially closing the course down, and they were all being rerouted straight down Jackson to the park. She wouldn't be making it to mile 18. Having had a similar experience last year, I knew how much it sucked, and I told her I was sorry. I tried to think if it would be worthwhile to backtrack and find her, but wasn't sure if I'd be able to do so in the crowd. Plus, I was right by an el station, so I headed on home. I'm sort of wishing I'd gone back and found her, but I was hot, sweaty, and tired. And right by the el station.

When I got home, I couldn't believe how tired I was, and I'd only run 8 miles. I felt like a damn wuss, that was for sure. I sucked down as much water and Gatorade as I could, along with a 99-cent bag of sour cream & cheddar potato chips (mmm.... salt....). I felt much better after a nap and met up with everyone for drinks and dinner. The consensus was pretty much universal and was along the lines of "That totally blew, and we never ever have to do it again." I felt bad for the first-time marathoners who had their debut race cut short. There's nothing like crossing that finish line for the first time, and they got robbed. That said, I totally agree with the decision to close the race early - runners were dropping like flies, the race organization couldn't get water and gatorade to them, and ambulance sirens were going off all over the place. It was scary, that's for sure.

Anyone who got out there and ran on Sunday has my full respect. It was an awful day to be out there, yet everyone toughed it out and made it work the best they could. Barb's account of the day is here, and she's planning to get her revenge in a 50K race at the end of the month. Her husband? Is running in New York. As we were telling each other on Sunday night, "It can't possibly be this hot in New York in November. It just can't."

Today? It was 57 degrees when I left for work, and that's about as warm as it's going to get over the next 3 or 4 days. Fall is back in Chicago, just 48 hours too late.

Posted by Dawn at October 9, 2007 08:16 AM

Comments

Posted by: Running Jayhawk at October 9, 2007 09:53 AM

Posted by: ShoreTurtle at October 9, 2007 04:31 PM