October 10 - Chicago Marathon (72 miles/week)

AM: Chicago Marathon, 2:36:33, 131st overall, 27 miles

"There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles
Blood in the streets, it's up to my knee
Blood in the streets in the town of Chicago
Blood on the rise, it's following me
Just about the break of day"
~ The Doors (via Jake M.)


There's probably not a more apt description for this race other than the "Chicago Massacre." Almost everyone I knew, myself arguably included, crashed and burned out there on the course today. Given my school schedule over the last two months, my training had been good but far from great. I had some reservations coming in whether this was going to go well. The only way to know for sure, though, was just to race the damn thing and figure it out.


Exiting the elite development tent with allies Sam Robinson (Transports), Dickson (GRC), and Ben Ingram (ex-Falls Road), I felt good enough. David Yu (Strawberry Canyon TC) also lined up just behind us. After the national anthem and introducing the elites, we were off, zig-zagging through downtown Chicago through throngs of screaming spectators. I stuck with Dickson for about two miles before he took off to a 2:25-2:26 group, which was realistic but extremely risky for me today. However, after briefly running with fellow Maryland Terp Eric Marenburg, I had a new ally in my Berkeley training buddy David, who was debuting. We tucked in a pack together an would run shoulder-to-shoulder for the next 12 miles. The plan was to run between 5:35 and 5:43 pace steadily on Chicago's flat course.


Splits: 5:37, 5:39, 5:40, 5:32, 11:16 (2 miles)


I took Gatorade at every single stop, and at mile 8 I popped a gel shortly after we passed our friend Sam, who got sick early and had to drop out. Even though I was right on pace, I had creeping doubts as to whether today was the day for me. My heart rate was in control, but I had trouble getting into the consistent, locomotive rhythm that has served me well in past marathons. Around 11 heading back into downtown, the pack we were in started to splinter as guys began to make moves. "They're speeding up, aren't they?" David asked.


"I'm not biting," I quipped. It was too early to be accelerating, and I didn't feel very good at that point.


Several moments later following a prolonged silence...


David: (audible sigh)


Me: "This kind of sucks."


David: "Yeah, pretty much."


By the time I hit the half, I was right on goal pace for 2:28-2:29 in 1:14:10, but my stomach was sending me warning signs...loud, angry signs.


Splits: 5:40, 5:42, 5:42, 5:39, 5:36, 5:42, 5:45


Before we hit the mile 14 marker, I saw the next medical tent. I had a decision to make. Hold it, and risk it becoming a critical impairment in the late stages of the race? Or, take care of it now while my legs were still semi-fresh without losing too much time? Of those options, I chose door #2 (pun horribly intended). I gave David the cut-throat sign and darted into the portajohn on the side of the course, shaking my head in frustration.


After the quick business trip, I shot out of the bathroom to see a Howard County Strider come whizzing by. I tucked in with him and saw that I'd lost ~1:00 in the bathroom, hitting the next mile in 6:41. Maybe I was still in this race? If I ran well, I could still dip under 2:30 or at the very least duck under my PR (2:31:17). Maybe?


Mile 15: 5:42...maybe?


Mile 16: 5:54...eh...maybe?


Mile 17: 6:11...maybe not.


Seeing this split and guys pass me for the first time since the opening 3 miles, my new strategy was damage control. I was fading, and risked hitting the wall full-on. "F***," I thought. "I still have more than 9 miles to go." I still had energy and hadn't hit the wall (yet), but I was fighting for my life to keep pace. After the bathroom stop, I just couldn't find the 5:40 racing gear again.


It's not an exaggeration to say that the next hour was one of the toughest in my life as a runner. While I was definitely getting passed, at this point by some of the elite American women (Tara Moody, Colleen DeReuck, and a handful of Hansons-Brooks), I was also passing guys in my effort to stop the bleeding. This unfortunately included Dickson at mile 20, who despite being in what I believe to be the best shape of his life, fell victim to a bum hamstring.


I kept telling myself that I had to get to Michigan Ave, and I fought like hell to stop from slowing down, digging and clawing past the guys I could reel in. This could have been any easy day to see 8:00, 9:00, or 10+ minute miles, and it was quickly getting out of hand.


I slurped Gatorade and dumped water on my head to keep my body temperature down. While the first half of the course in Chicago's north side is pleasant and shaded, the second half is brutally exposed to the sun, and it was getting hot, especially as we passed US Cellular Field. I started passing guys doing the death shuffle or just walking outright, presumably with the heat as a catalyst. Looking at the results after the race, a grand total of one guy ahead of me negative split the first and second half. That's brutal.


I at last made it to Michigan Avenue with the final 2.5 miles directly in front of me: a virtual straight shot to the finish line. My pre-race strategy was to put my head down and pass as many guys as I could, and I stuck to that. I waged at least a half-dozen mini-battles on this last stretch, and though my memory is understandably hazy, I think I won them all, actually re-passing a couple of people--something which I'm damn proud of given how awful the race was going. It actually felt a lot like a cross country race in that every step and every inch gained was positively agonizing.


This was never truer than the last hill on the course. While Chicago is understandably pancake-flat, the last 500m is not, featuring a small 200m rise into Millennium Park. Here, I passed one last runner, cresting the hill and coming as close to vomiting during any race ever, much less in the purely-aerobic marathon. Fighting off this rather unpleasant sensation, I winced and counted down the last flattened 200m...then 100m...looking around to see if anyone was coming behind me. I was in the clear, taking the last few final steps before stumbling across the finish line in a blur and rush of instant relief.


Final splits: 6:08, 6:14, 6:20, 6:15, 6:18 ("Hold on..."), 6:32, 6:30, 6:27 ("HOLD. ON."), 7:52 (1.2 miles)

So what happened out there?

In retrospect, there wasn't anything I could have done about the heat as Chicago humbled me once again (I had a terrible blow-up in 2004 in college). I ran about as conservatively as I could have given my goal of 2:29, though I now realize my dinner on Saturday night was far too heavy. I ordered something that I thought was lighter and ended up being really sort of dense. That's my 100% fault, assuming it was to blame for the mid-race pit stop. My feet were also hamburger after the race, as the photo illustrates. That didn't help things.

As far as my training goes, I hit 1,800+ miles in 18 weeks. The last 10 weeks weren't ideal, but I'm in the middle of my first hectic semester of the MBA program at Duke, which demands some personal sacrifices. Those sacrifices have undoubtedly included sleep, stretching, auxiliary work (strides and drills), ice baths, core and upper body work, and unfortunately also mileage. I peaked really far out (12-13 weeks pre-race) at 121 miles/week, but there wasn't much I could do about that in grad school. Judging by my last 9 miles, I can say that I left as much as I could out on the course. I fought as hard as I could to keep today from becoming a total implosion, and it flirted seriously with becoming just that.

I ended up with a time that, less the bathroom break, would have been almost exactly the same time to the second as my Marine Corps race in 2008, which I came away feeling equally apathetic, but later went on to tear down my 5k and 10k PRs in the following winter and spring. Going forward, I'm not doing a spring marathon. I still have some speed in these legs, and I'm determined to see it in races from 3k through the half marathon this winter and spring. Hell, I may even jump in a mile. Until then, my only immediate plan is the USATF Club XC Championships in Charlotte in December. This is hands-down one of my favorite races of the year. I'll take the rest of the month to get back on board with school, get in some cross training, and, most importantly, recovery from yesterday. Aside from the race, I really enjoyed the weekend, getting to see and hang out with friends from the GRC, California, and other places across the country. Other than the race itself, I couldn't have been more relaxed, save for an absent Valerie who got really sick and had to stay home.

And if you've made it this far, you're also probably pretty supportive of my running. So thank you--seriously. I'm consider myself extremely lucky to have the support of friends and family, especially on days like today where I'm facing down my darkest hours as a runner. You're there come success, failure, and in-between (of which today probably qualifies), and that's awesome.

We'll get 'em next time...bummer.