The Chicago Diaries: It Felt Like A PR
Fight
I had about ten miles to go and I couldn’t stop smiling.
I had done it.
I had fought.
What to say about a marathon that didn’t go at all like I expected it to and still has me stunned three weeks later? I hope you’ll forgive me for sitting in my thoughts a bit longer for this race than normal.
By the time I got to Sunday, October 13th, I was as ready as I could possibly be. If you’ve been a reader of this space the last few months, you know what I’m about to say: It wasn’t my best training block but I thought I had a good day in me.
I still felt that way as I slowly1 made my way to the start line. The forecast for race day had worked in my favor as the morning got closer, but it was still a tick warmer than many of us would like. I was going to stick to my plan — 6:17-per mile, hoping for a sub-2:45 marathon — but I also was going to feel this race out in a different way than I had before.
I have learned a lot in the last 18 months. In May of 2023, I learned what happens if you don’t adjust your plans early enough. Close to a year later, it was about what you have left at the end of a race, and making sure you do everything possible to pace properly.
It’s not that I was thinking about either race as we took off through the streets of Chicago, but I definitely think they prepared me for what was to come.
I was about to run my smartest race yet.
We were minutes from starting when Amy DeLong mentioned it to our group — “Pour water on your head at every water stop.”
I hadn’t been planning on doing so, but it was indeed a bit warmer than we liked, so I filed it away. And for the first time ever, I’d begin a marathon with a bottle of water. As I made my way early on, I decided I wouldn’t let go of the bottle until it was empty. I’d grab a cup of Gatorade2 and then a cup of water, drinking the former while pouring the latter over my head. It was the first decision of mine that allowed me to fight all morning long.
Two years ago, I wrote about the GPS in Chicago and how it can cause problems early. Unlike 2022, I’d be lapping my watch, like I did in Eugene, thus giving myself (a) my actual mile splits and (b) allowing myself to do less math than before. That said, I didn’t press the lap button for the first time until I was 1.10 miles in according to my watch. By the time I finished, my “pace” was showing 5:48 while the first mile actually took 6:25. It was the first moment of true pause out there, as the 6:25 definitely didn’t feel as easy as I would want that pace to feel.
Ditto for the next four miles:
Mile 2: 1.04 miles, 6:11 pace, 6:26 actual
Mile 3: 1:06 miles, 5:51 pace, 6:14 actual
Mile 4: 1:01 miles, 6:12 pace, 6:19 actual
Mile 5: 1:01 miles, 6:17 pace, 6:23 actual
The biggest issue? I couldn’t keep my heart rate down. It climbed above 180 and was mostly averaging between 175-178 beats per minute in each of those first handful of miles, well above what I was hoping for. I couldn’t get comfortable at all.
As mile two turned into mile three and as mile three turned into mile four, I started asking myself if I could hold this pace for another 20+ miles. What felt like a 6:17 or better pace in the first five miles actually showed itself to be 6:21.4 on average. I was running slower than I thought I was and that 6:21 pace actually felt harder than I thought it should.
At one point in those early miles, I went to wipe my forehead and adjust my hat, and came away stunned to find so much sweat. That much sweat, already? What on earth was going on out there?3
As the sixth mile approached, I had a decision to make: I’d be seeing my family — Riss, my parents, my brother Caleb, and his wife Cass — for the first of three or four times (we hoped). I was in the midst of debating if I should slow down or not and if that was going to be the plan, I needed to let them know. I didn’t want them worried.
Over the course of the sixth mile, I allowed the pace on my watch to climb above 6:20. The sixth mile finished in 6:26 — nine seconds off my goal coming into the day — but seeing that number didn’t bother me. If anything, I felt good. I felt better at that pace. It felt like a pace I could hold onto, certainly for longer than my initial goal.
I made my decision. I was going to slow down.
I was so happy I did. The next set of miles clipped on by and I spent most of the time focused less on pace/my splits and more on how things felt.
Mile 7: 6:24
Mile 8: 6:31
Mile 9: 6:28
Mile 10: 6:31
Mile 11: 6:29
Mile 12: 6:37
Mile 13: 6:23
I came through the halfway mark of the race at 1:24:24, close to two minutes off the goal I had coming into the day, but I was feeling stronger. Mile by mile, my HR settled in, going from its peak average of 178 at mile three all the way down to 172 on average by mile ten. If I could just keep humming along, I knew I could get it into the 160s. And if I could get it into the 160s, I knew I’d have the juice for the final handful of miles.
By the time mile 13 finished, I had done just that. I had half a race left and I was suddenly gaining confidence. I wasn’t on my way towards a PR, but I had powered through some early issues — I had fought! — and was still running my race out there.
Every aid station was massive. I was still taking in the Gatorade without any issues. I was still pouring water over my head without any issues. And by the time I ran out of water in the bottle I was carrying, wouldn’t you know it, I ran by a group of supporters that were handing out new bottles of water.4
Close to the halfway point, I reached an aid station that featured Maurten gels. If you remember my recap from Lincoln last May, you’ll remember I very much struggled with them. I decided to pocket a few but a mile or so later, I took one out, took it in, and added a swig of water.
No issues.
I made the decision in that moment that I’d do this the remaining miles.5
Mile 14: 6:30
Mile 15: 6:30
Mile 16: 6:33
Mile 17: 6:26
Mile 18: 6:28
Mile 19 and 206: 13:01
I continued gaining confidence. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was soaking in the cheers. Soaking in every runner I passed to move up a bit.
My decision to run a bit slower was paying off.
With 10k to go, I found myself debating when I wanted to go. My legs felt as fresh as I could expect them to be at this point in a race, if not fresher. With the cloud cover and temperatures dropping a tick, I had reached a point where I was no longer pouring water over my head. Carnage was being felt all over the course, with people walking, stretching out cramps, if not outright reacting in a visceral way.
The gels were going down easy, the Gatorade was still sitting well, and I still had a little water left in my bottle.
Mile 21: 6:35
Mile 22: 6:28
Mile 23: 6:33
Mile 23 into mile 24 is at the southern-most part of the entire course. You make your way south before turning around and coming back north. At this point, there are pretty much two straight miles of going north, right into downtown. Not too many turns left. I wanted to go into that straightaway with as little thinking as possible.
I took my final gel followed by my last swig of water from the bottle. I tossed it with about three miles left. I knew I could get by without anymore water, but I knew I wanted a little bit more. Which made the next moment awesome, as another person on the course was handing out bottles. I decided to take one, thanked him, and made the decision to hold onto it until the 25 mile mark and let it go.
Mile 24: 6:477
It was time to kick it into high gear.
Mile 25: 6:09
There’s nothing like seeing the ONE MILE TO GO sign and before I passed it, I took one more drink of my water and let it go, feeling lighter for the mile. Instead of dipping off into the last aid station, I kept on going.
I started looking everywhere for my family. I knew I’d see my dad close to the finish line, but the rest of my family could be anywhere. Instead of focusing on the exact pace I was running, I was focused on them. They were pretty much carrying me as I got ready to turn east and run up Mt. Roosevelt, still having not seen them.
And then I did.
Whereas in 2022, I wasn’t ready for the hill, this time I was. I pressed the lap button when I hit mile 26, not looking down, ready to turn left and find my dad.
Mile 26: 6:12
Find him, I did. He was off to my right. He whistled, just like he did when I was a kid. I gave him a huge fist pump and scream, using the downhill momentum to take me to the finish line.
I lifted my arms up and finished the race.
2:49:15.
It wasn’t a PR. I missed my Eugene time by 125 seconds.
I didn’t care.
If anything, I left Chicago just a little bit happier than I had in April. I had battled through early struggles. Instead of gambling and losing, I made a bet with myself that if I could slow down just enough, I’d have the goods at the end of the race. I powered through. I handled nutrition and fluids better than I ever had before.
I fought.
I won’t bore you with the details of the morning, but I didn’t get into my corral until about 7:00 am. The lines for the porta potties were LONG.
Which was new for me. I hadn’t had electrolytes during previous races, but a cup or two. My plan for Chicago was to take a cup at every single station.
The answer? Humidity. It didn’t feel like it before the race, but the humidity was actually near 90% at the start of the race. In hindsight, it kind of explained everything else.
Which led to an awkward moment where I grabbed two, realized I didn’t want to hold two bottles of water for miles at a time. I offered it to a group that came up behind me but no one wanted it, so I tossed it to the side, only for it to bounce off the sidewalk and almost come back and take us all out. OOPS!
Oreos and me are now sleeping in separate bedrooms.
For the second straight race, I missed a mile marker and had to lap two together. Smh me.
After close to 20 miles of 1.00, 1.01, etc., I finally got bit by the GPS bug and finished that one showing 1.05 miles completed on the lap. Never felt like I was running that slow but I guess I was.