TL;DR: I achieved my goal, "barely". A 2:59:03 official time meant I delivered on my capabilities and expectations for myself, and validated a ton of work and completed a transformation that was long in the making.
If you've talked to me about running or even walked by me over the last 6 months, you'd know that - at least in the sense of running - I've had a single, specific, isolated focus (not something I recommend). That focus was October 9th, 2022, 7:30am: THE Chicago Marathon. It was so much of a focus that PR'ing in my 5k, 10k, Half Marathon, winning my first race, etc all were pretty trivial and I spent ephemeral time appreciating or dwelling on any of those things...I even got frustrated that friends wanted to "cheers" my win at dinner the night I won, which admittedly feels a little ridiculous in hindsight. I was so rooted in a NEXT mentality, I didn't give a thought to celebrating and actually was strongly opposed to it.
Those events and personal records were mere checkpoints on the way to something grander, something deeper, something that had eluded me and left me defeated previously. They told me that I was on track to have a great season, but were not really fulfilling. From my DNF in the Paris Marathon in 2019 to mostly walking the second half of the Akron Trail Marathon in July 2021, the Marathon had proven an obstacle I simply could NOT properly execute on my fitness, training, or plan. I suppose the single marathon success I had was running with Bailey at Newmarket October 2021 for her Boston Qualifying time, but that was her achievement and success - being along for the ride did feel like a massive victory...just by association, it wasn't mine to own.
I had "one race" in 2022, the other events were just part of the build up. More than a dozen times after being congratulated on a PR or a great race, I would say that I only had one important (or "A, B, or even C") race this year. Chicago.
Since April, my phone lock screen has been this picture
I just had to finish strong without walking or blowing up, sounds a lot simpler in theory...
The Set Up: The lead up in training had continued rather strong. Though my longest run, 22mi, had been disappointing. I ran in the afternoon after work - not my normal - but had to do so because of weekend plans, which were a constant this summer. My stomach gave out on me at my gel at 2:15 run time and then I cramped up badly enough that I had to walk anything of a 3% grade in the last 2 miles. I took it as a sign of "relief", because in my Paris run up I think my absolutely peak day was my 21 mile run that I seriously crushed and ran at near marathon goal pace. It was nice to "finally" have a bad day in my lead up because everything thus far had been too smooth sailing. Money was in the bank and it was time to slowly back off and taper! A relief but also meant being antsy and having nerves would be the dominant theme.
I caught a decent cold the Sunday/Monday before, not COVID after a couple tests proved that...but was under the weather. I slept more that week and hydrated better than I have in my whole life - nearly 10 hours per night, which is very concerning for me. I was all in for Chicago. We got a room .7 miles from the start to ensure an easy morning and extra ability to scout our day of race plan. Arrived Friday afternoon with ample time to eat dinner and Saturday would be the expo "minimally though" as I kept telling Bailey. I wanted to get the expo done and get back to the hotel to rest up, while Bailey and our friends who came to watch the race (+ join us for dinner Sunday evening) check out the Field Museum and enjoyed the city more than I had attention to do.
As soon as we got to the airport in Portland...I started getting serious jolts of adrenaline and excitement for the weekend. They got more intense in Chicago and at the expo I had to focus to keep cool. We got a VERY good dinner at Gibson's and got to bed really early. I didn't really sleep. It took 4 hours to get some real shuteye, even then it was broken sleep and I luckily didn't get overly anxious/frustrated about it (because the same thing happened in Paris and I wouldn't let myself get shaken by no sleep). My sleep total was 3:31 according to Whoop, but that feels like a lot more than I got.
Race Morning: Awake at 4:45am, which mostly felt like rolling out of laying down in bed for 8 hours, and made my pre-measured Oatmeal + Aeropress with the tea kettle we had in the room. Keeping as quiet as I could because my race morning routine is a bunch earlier than Bailey's. She was up at 5, earlier due to my fumbling around but we were both in good spirits! We ate and had our coffee and prepared for our ~6:05am departure towards the Starting Line. It was a chilly, but not too cold, walk and we both had throw away clothing to keep us warm enough until 7:30am. SO MANY PEOPLE were out walking towards Michigan Ave and we stayed together until we had to go to different corral entry points. I was going to be ditching my phone at bag drop, so I assumed that was the last we'd see of each other...but in hindsight we had ample time and could have regrouped after going through security.
The walk felt longer than I wanted, but in reality only ended up being about 1.5 miles. I was worried about porta potty lines and near the start line that proved painful, until they opened up what appeared to be the post race area and there were HUNDREDS OF POTTIES WITH NO LINES!!! It was a pre-marathon come true, for hundreds of people who got a few strides in on the way to the potties, myself included. My legs felt good and my stomach was in good shape after the last bathroom stop around 7:15. Then I lined up, near the 3:00 pacer group (the Nike pacers were verbose and incredibly useful, informing us to completely ignore our GPS for 3-4 miles and trust the pacing - though Amanda Allen's pre-Chicago post made that clear to me first, plus our Saturday jog was pretty laughable by GPS).
Luckily being male made for a simple final pee before the party got started, it was too late to get to a porta potty and the corrals were closed. A sign that I stayed very pleasantly hydrated up until and through the race. It was chilly, but all systems checked out and we were a go.
The Plan: My plan was to run consistent 6:47/mi or so, the course fully allowed running even splits for nearly every single mile. I "felt" fit enough to handle the pace and hope for the strength and will to finish faster, but the explicit. A rarity and an opportunity that was necessary to capitalize on. I didn't want to bank time at all, it was truly trusting in the training and in my legs to deliver in the last 6-8 miles that they had never before survived in a marathon race (Paris, Maine Coast, Akron trail, Burlington - 4 for 4 on the failed final miles, despite going through Paris/Maine/Burlington at an acceptable half marathon split). The 6:47/mi pace allowed for the typical "margin of error" of a marathon being .3-.5 longer than expected and still making it in under 3. If distance ended up exactly 26.22, I'd be at least 2mins clear. A perfect race would be coasting through 10 miles, easy through 13-16, feeling it by 20, then work like hell over the 10K and truly earn my finish.
*all mile times are my split from the Chicago marathon's mile markers, though I missed a few button presses, so some splits are 2miles.
The Race: 7:35am, the very weak horn goes off quite uneventfully and the runners assume the anxious trot-in-place of a crowded marathon start when walking would likely be far more efficient. It's crowded but people were being fairly reasonable...until there were a couple dozen people in corral A (the wikkid fast one) who seemed to be standing still, running slower than 12:00/mi. I'm not sure how they were in the A group, but even if legitimately I can't believe they did not stay off towards the sides. It was pretty dangerous and caused a good commotion, but we got past it. Mile 1 absolutely ripped by and I felt far more focused on the hecticness and staying back around pacers versus running freely. 6:49. Finally, starting well on pace!
Mile 2-3. Continued congestion in the course, the pacers were good at informing us of upcoming turns. I quickly found that the inside line was trash, even if you were willing to hold your space (bows out, was this a cycling criterium?!) it was just too damn crowded and the turn forced you to stumble to a walk. I later moved just outside the inner line that everyone thought was best, which was more palatable but still not great. 6:38, 6:47. Through the 5K in 20:57, 6:45 avg.
Mile 4-6: It all starts to blur together as nothing is particularly surprising and I've found a really great rhythm. My watch is starting to "seem" accurate, but I still hover around the pace group to keep on pace. Alas, frustration is growing of the massive flock of the 3:00 pace group that I can't seem to find space from.
Mile 7-9: I found another guy who was clearly more frustrated than even I was with the madhouse. We exchanged a few words on the topic of the madness around the 3 group, ran together for a bit, then he took off a little faster than I wanted to...but I drifted ahead to get in the clear. It was almost peaceful getting ahead of the pace group, but as I hit mile 8 I could feel my right hamstring tightening (not cramping, so all good) that had first caused me trouble after last October's Marathon. The concern was more so that over the next 18 miles it would give up or just cramp sooner than desired.
Mile 13: The point at which I hoped I'd be feeling still quite easy, was easy aerobically like I've never had in a race. My heart rate had still been holding under 160, which is very good for me...Maine Coast Marathon I had been up at 180bpm. Things were on track aerobically. My legs were not 100% and while I wasn't worried, they weren't quite as smooth as hoped at this point. Only option, forge on!
RIGHT AROUND THE HALF I HEAR MY NAME GETTING FREAKING SCREAMED BY TWO LOUD MEN. I do a quick scan and set my bewildered stare at JASON AND ZACK, holy SHIT they showed up in Chicago secretly and unannounced (until now). I was stunned and I was so focused on the task at hand, which was - despite being perfectly on pace - in an incredibly volatile state. I waved, attempted a hug on the run and kissed the sky. It was absolutely shocking and the burst of energy and chill I got was quite hard to hold back...but I needed to harness that energy for later. It also became clear that there was suddenly a little bit more on the line. Jason and Zack showing up meant two things: they sacrificed a LOT to be here to see Bailey and I run...and they really truly thought I had it in me to break 3:00.
Sidebar: For the past year or so, Zack has been running in AlphaFly Next% shoes and was loving them. Last fall I tried on a pair, Erin's, and giggled at the bounciness. I called them a "mix between moonboots and clown shoes" but it was also abundantly clear that they were not the same as my other shoes. Back in late June, Zack and Erin got me a pair with a note that said "A special gift from all of us at The Chadwick for all that you do! WE KNOW WITH THESE SHOES YOU WILL BQ!! <3". I've kept that note at my desk since I got it from them.
I tested the AlphaFlys out the next week before my 10K for 4th of July and on the race itself, which was not a PR but was an excellent race where I finished strong. I was sure these would be my marathon shoes as long as my feet handled more miles in them, that final test was the Blueberry Cove Half Marathon, which was a "tied for PR" due to race distance concerns but on a far, far harder course. I still stand true to the fact that gear is far from the top of the list of what makes a good race, with good training and good race day execution (preparation and race execution) being the keys.
Half Marathon Split:1:28:57. 6:47/mi. Perfect. I got excited that my energy felt so incredible. So I began to eat slightly more frequently than my plan and also more intently take water AND Gatorade whenever possible.
Miles 14-16: 6:44, :45, :44. I was on fire with the pacing. I tend to pace well, but often by relying on my Garmin. This was au naturale and I was LOVING IT. Not focusing hard on pace, while starting to feel the early toll of the marathon, was a joy. I felt kinda "alone" but in a wonderful way during these miles.
Miles 17-19: 6:40, :44, 6:36 (oops? it felt okay but I need to not get excited). I was also aware that I was still using the marathon markers and it's possible some were slightly off (in hindsight that 6:36 was 0.98mi or 6:43 pace). This was the very point at which my calves started to cramp up. They were getting twitchy and just little cramps that wouldn't take hold...but this was earlier than I wanted or expected given my preparation and confidence coming into Chicago. I worked to modify my stride to make sure I wasn't overusing my calves...a little more focus on the quads for now, which were TOTALLY comfortable.
Mile. 2. 0. TWENTY: 7:03. 2 miles, 3 times, that's all that remains. Oh shit, am I falling apart?! This was my first scare or concern so far...especially with the calves starting to struggle. Took more electrolyte pills. Dropped one. Clearly I was starting to feel the weight of the whole damn thing and it was going to be as tough of a 10K as I've ever done. Especially if I intended to keep up this hellish pace. Food was not taking well, nor was water or Gatorade. Everything I consumed was met with a right side stitch. I dug my fingers in under my rib cage and it granted relief. I wouldn't stop eating unless it stopped me from running, I'd sip my gel over a mile or let the Shot Blok soak until it dissolved in my mouth.
Mile 21-23: Wooooooooof. 6:56, :59, 7:05. Another 7+ mile. I was bothered, but not shaken. I was aware it was going to get progressively harder and I was mentally, physically prepared. With my calves seriously struggling now, I was fighting off with all my power to not walk even through a water station. It was pretty dire and if I let myself walk, I was very worried that any acceleration back to running would be met with a crippling cramp - something I've gotten in every single marathon (minus Newmarket, NH which I ran with/for Bailey). WOOOO Jack and Liz at 22. I could tell that they knew I was hurting, but holding on. I gave them the deer-in-the-headlights look that the next 30 minutes or so would be torture and a make-or-break. They had an AWESOME spot, and I knew I'd see them again around 24 as they stood at an out-and-back section. I was still on 6:47 pace through 22, but clearly was starting to slow a little.
I caught back up to "my buddy". His name, I now learned (we were able to converse, but struggling to do so) was Logan Elliot...he'd broken 3 before but was trying to do so for the first time at a Major - something he admitted was harder than a smaller race.
That section, seeing people passing 24 miles as I crossed 22, was rough. Everyone looked (was) soooo fast, being that they were all cruising and 15 minutes ahead of me. I was impressed, jealous but not demoralized. I came here to soak up every step in this quest and I buckled up as my calves quivered, caught, and unlatched with every goddamn stride. These things that people seem to think are "impressive" were my sworn enemy. Not the first time, surely not the last. My first ever hill workout in high school left me on the ground after 2 or 3 repeats due to calf cramps fully locking up. I'd trained 15 years for this moment, to fend off cramps that had ended so many races and workouts too soon in the past.
My mind started to play serious games on me. I really thought I had a "good" cushion. I DID, but I didn't quite anymore...and faltering off pace would make it fade face.
24: 7:17. I had made some cushion naturally...but I was SERIOUSLY eating into it by losing 30s/mile. It couldn't continue but I really didn't know if I could up the past. Also, Logan dropped me (again). I did everything I could to keep with him and stay close...letting him be my magnet, not my great demoralizer. It worked, mostly. As I tried to keep up, my calf cramps got worse, nearly stopping me in my tracks...I did that jog-wobble you see so often at this point in a marathon. A silly looking, little jog-wobble that had the ability to end my race. I just had to finish strong without walking or blowing up, sounds a lot simpler in theory...and feels like a brick wall in practice!
40K/24.8mi: 2:50:00. Math. Brain. WTF does this mean. 7 flat * 2.2K (brain....2.4K is 1.5mi is 10:30, a half lap at 7 flat is 50 seconds or so...my mind told me if I could manage 7 flat I was safe but that was too scary to me, I had to get more). The "hill" at the end now terrified me. What if I cramped and lost 30 seconds...that was all it would take. I started to get anxious that a single walk or cramp would be THE end of my day. I'd finish, without a doubt. But finishing above 3 would be an incomplete day.
25: 7:18. Holding on. Barely. A single cramp had the ability to end my quest for a sub-3 hour marathon. It was that close. I had intended it to be that close, because too much front loading or pushing too much was riskier than relying on closing the damn thing out successfully and on willpower. But it was scaring me that willpower versus (now)
25.2. There was a sign for exactly one mile to go. I had 7 minutes and 25 seconds to get to the finish line. I started to ramp up the pace, I had to put it all on the line. 7:25 was not "safe", I'd been fighting for 7:20 pace and continuing what I was doing was not going to achieve the goal. My stride opened up, my calves hurt and whined but they rose to the challenge. I was short-striding and struggling, but my pace was clearly elevated and I was holding it well. 30 seconds, this is cool. 60 seconds. Logan Elliot is there, I yell to him "YOU'VE GOT THIS LET'S TAKE IT HOMEEEEE!!!!". okay, we're doing it. I feel on fire again, but far, far more volatile this time. I focus straight ahead. Then, JASON AGAIN!??! He ran up to me with a bottle of water and I waved it off, he could tell I was in a zone and unflappable and non-communicative. He thought I wanted him away, I didn't mind and welcomed a little company. I don't recall if I said anything, but all that was going through my head was a countdown to the finish. I was but 5 minutes away. A timeframe that I know well. I was cruising properly now and barring a catastrophe (not far fetched) I'd be taking the two turns and "hill" into the finish with triumph.
A quick check on my pace. I was running...WHAT....6:20s?!!? FUCK YEAH RUNNING. I was quickly realizing I found a gear and willpower I've possibly never touched on before, not in cycling nor running. The final push in the half marathon a couple months ago (to win a race) was nothing in comparison to what I was putting myself through right now. And. I. Was. LOVING. IT.
Around the turn, there's the "hill" it's not a hill...but it's scary because it could bring disaster to me with an aggresive/quick change in gradient. I hit it and feel like I'm bounding (in reality I'm taking really short strides and nearly dragging my feet). I'm cruising past other runners at this point and after the final turn the finish line is in sight. I check my watch and I've got ample time to back off. Nope. LAST ONE FAST ONE BABBYYYY (if you've ever been in my track workouts at Starting Line, this is a common policy in my workouts).
Another guy is around me and he's clearly celebrating his sub3 marathon. We shake hands in our mutual joy with 20 meters to go. Last check of the watch, it's real, it's happening! It was my fastest mile on the day, 6:28.
6+ months of life, sleep, health, mental, running, purpose of being change. One thousand training miles. It hit me. All. At. Once. I had done all the work, I knew it was possible. I arrived in Chicago with the expectation and confidence. I had a single, solitary goal. Sub 3. Anything slower than that would be considered a failure (not a complete failure, as the lessons learned would have fueled the future attempt(s)). The lessons learned will still fuel future attempts. In the last 10K alone, I got scared, weak, started to fail and let myself fail, and then recovered and rose to the full challenge when it was most critical.
I quietly wept behind my sunglasses. I cried on and off. I thought of Bailey when we crossed the finish line at Loco Marathon in NH. I understood that feeling she had. It was nice. I felt our connection, with her still out on the course fighting her own battle of the day (coming back from surgery in June and racing hard in October). I didn't feel alone despite not knowing a soul in the thousands next to me. A lot of us, right in that moment, we were celebrating our own massive - or at least significant - achievements. There was some camaraderie, and I got to congratulate Logan on his sub3 - it was awesome to see him deliver on his goal too!
The rest is best said in pictures. Champagne, getting iced, the great reuniting with Bailey, then Jason, Zack, Jack, and Liz! Then ALINEA for dinner and Second City for the comedy show, amazing night after an incredible day.
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| We clean up pretty all right! Dinner @ Alinea after the race day! |
