The Chicago Marathon

A race of this size and caliber deserves the time for reflection. Since December 7th, 2023, I’ve been thinking about the Chicago Marathon. The energy, the people, the training it would take to get me to the starting line of my first major marathon. My initial reaction to the lottery acceptance was excitement for the year of training ahead. Flash forward to September, just weeks left until race-day, where the number of days below 70 degrees could be counted on one hand, I was ready for training to end. Lonely, dark mornings of training in solitude were starting to wear me down. I no longer looked forward to my weekend mornings, but instead felt a sense of anxiousness for the long efforts I still had to complete. I knew I could do them, I just wasn’t excited for the hours following them. If you’ve trained consistently in the summer, you know how humidity and heat plays the role of antagonist to your training. Frustrated that conditions at home were a misrepresentation of what Chicago would be like in October, I managed to finish my training with a pair of 20 mile runs to show for it. Nothing remarkable, but they provided evidence to myself that I could in fact complete this distance. More specifically, I could barter with my mind to allow for just another 10k added to my longest training run. 

Showing up to Chicago on marathon weekend showed me just how serious the world of running took the major races. The six major marathons include Boston, Chicago and New York in the United States, and Berlin, London and Tokyo internationally. People spent their whole life pursuing the chance to run all six. Some even do that in a single year! I felt extremely lucky to line up for my first. Michigan Avenue was littered with purple Nike merchandise before the race, with medals layered overtop those jackets after the race. Personally, I’m not a big fan of wearing my medal in public, I figured folks could spot the accomplishment by my post-race waddle. 

Starting the race from Millenium Park, the first half-mile gives you a chance to get your bearings and loosen up after you’ve spent 2-3 hours in the corral anticipating the start. It’s also the only portion of the race without thousands of people yelling and screaming. A perfect moment of calm before the storm. North on Columbus until West on Grant and just like that, thousands of people cheering and holding signs.

I spent the first three miles scanning viciously to find the sign that Maddie had spent so much time on. Sure enough, I was able to find her between mile 3 and 4 and a sense of calm came over me. Half from seeing my support system on course, someone who had sacrificed more mornings than I could count to take care of Grier while I went out for a run. And half because I could now just focus on the race and how my body felt with each mile ahead. Lincoln Park and Lake View came next, two of the most beautiful neighborhoods in the city. The first 10k went by without a hitch. We turned back toward the city skyline and spent the next five miles at a gradual downhill back toward the Chicago river. It was there that I saw Maddie again for the second time, kissed her, and took off toward the halfway point. 

One of the most amazing parts of these races is the unconditional love the city has for the event. As we passed under the subway covering on Wells Street (featured in The Dark Knight), the ‘L’ train passed overhead and the conductor was halfway out the window waving kindly at the runners below. About that same time, an announcement came over a crowd member’s microphone that Ruth Chepngetich had just broken the women’s world record with a time of 2:09:56, 2 minutes faster than the previous record. Everyone was excited to hear the news, maybe because we all thought we had a chance to break our own personal record today on the course. 

Crossing the halfway point on Wabash, we turned toward West Chicago, crossed the south strand of the Chicago River, and experienced a completely different type of atmosphere. The West Loop and University Village featured pep bands from UI-Chicago and local high schools,as well as massive cheering sections from international groups and charity partners. The energy from Mexican fans was infectious, handing out water, snacks, shots, waving flags and spinning wooden ratchets to cheer on runners. The best fan on-course was a husky who stood behind a microphone repeatedly barking. What could usually be described as a lull in the marathon distance (Past the start but not quite able to see the finish) was instead energetic and overall an amazing look into the neighborhood. 

At the 18-mile point, I started to feel my legs send a message to my body like "Hey how long are we supposed to keep this up?”. I had been holding an 8-minute pace fairly consistently and wanted to maintain that through the finish. I also knew that 8 miles was a long distance to ‘hold on’. Nothing I could do but press on and see what the course held for me. 

Approaching the southernmost tip of the course, a right turn on Wentworth Avenue had runners pass under the sign for Chinatown. Chinatown felt historic. What seemed like generations of families, the streets were lined with fans of all ages. Not to get too sentimental, but the 3-4 hours you spend on a marathon course is an amazing glimpse into what society should strive towards. People rooting for people, period. Moving on from Chinatown, the race was about to begin.

You see the 20-mile marker and you’ve heard all the stories of ‘the wall’, bonking, cramps, and the general misery that occurs between this point and the finish. Fans seemed to pick up on that. Cheering was consistently louder, support was around every corner, and conveniently every stretch seemed to have a medic, water, gatorade, and even a pit crew geared with sprayable Biofreeze for your legs (or perhaps other areas). Three miles past this marker, my legs began to cramp and seize. The humidity had finally made its move on me. I thought I had prepared myself for the rising temperatures of the late morning, but my legs served as evidence that I had not. My initial reaction was frustration and anger. Why is my body giving up on me? My mind still felt sharp even though I had been running for three hours at this point. The biggest learning moment occurred here, where I shifted from frustration and self-pity, to thankfulness and sheer determination to finish. My goal time was out the window, but I reminded myself of how lucky I was to be at this point in the race to begin with. Lots of people would have loved the opportunity to take on the Chicago Marathon. Alternating between walking and running, I entered into a back-and-forth battle. Some moments, my quads were so stiff and cramped that walking felt impossible. Other moments, I was able to run a few hundred yards until the cramping caught back up. In the South Commons neighborhood, a mother/daughter pair were cheering for me and when we made eye contact, I smiled and asked if they’d like to wear my bib to the finish line. Comedic relief was the relief I needed. From there, I scraped north on Michigan Avenue to the final climb. 

Roosevelt Boulevard felt like Mount Everest. The steepest climb of the day was conveniently placed on the last 800 meters of the course. Cruel but fair. At the top of the hill, we turned left back into Millenium Park where the finish line was within sight. Fans lined either side of the road and there a flood of emotion came over me. You never think you can’t do it, but there were certainly moments where you weren’t sure. As soon as I crossed, I received a text from Maddie congratulating me and tears flooded my eyes. Though she wasn’t able to see me at the finish line, she watched it happen on the live stream and that meant the world to me. The slow walk through the finish area allowed you to process what you had accomplished, and share the moment with other runners who did the same.  

I’m most proud of how I managed the difficult moments of the race. This race reminded me that putting your energy into a time may not be as crucial as you think. Keeping your head up (metaphorically? physically?) and taking a look at what’s around you may just be a little more important than a PR. This was my first marathon and I couldn’t be more proud and thankful for the opportunity. If I were you, I’d sign up for as many major marathon lotteries as possible, they give you a year to train for them. On to NYC :)