without regret

The race report from 2006...

i don't have the questions this time. there's the wishing, the wondering about different conditions, and about how things might have gone had i done this or that differently.

but this time, i know there wasn't much more i could have done, or much more i could have given, in the 26.2 miles, the four hours and forty-four minutes between crossing the start and finish mats in Chicago.

i did a lot more right this time around. eating the night before has often been an issue, because i would eat too late and/or too much. the hostel i was staying at was full of runners, and one of the things they did in support of the marathoners was a free spaghetti dinner at 5:00 the night before.

i was in a six-person room, three of the other bunks occupied by other rogue runners, who had arranged the stay and invited me along. i felt like the veteran runner, with my extensive history of one marathon to draw on. however, i've run far more races, and that, together with the fact that i wasn't in my early twenties, tended to set me apart. i tried to advise them on some of the finer points of race weekend preparation: no, 8:30 dinner reservations the night before are not ideal; no, you don't want to go out clubbing at 10:00pm on friday; no, walking around shopping the magnificent mile all day the day before the race is not a good idea; you might want to get your stuff together, know where your bib number is and attach it, and plan what you're going to take - tonight, not in the morning, etc.

they pretty much didn't listen, and went to eat and party and shop. ah, youth.

i was up at 5:30 sunday morning. ate a bagel and a half, which proved to be perfect, and for once, because of the better-timed dinner, things happened as i needed them to. you know, in the bathroom.

at about 6:45, we walked the three or four blocks to the start area. it was definitely cold - around the low 40's - and windy. somehow, though, the 30% chance of it not raining came through for us. i wished my young roommates good luck and met up with melissa, who had made the decision to run despite having suffered from a bad cold or flu for three or four days. i sent her off to find holly while i went to check my gear bag.

a few minutes later, i sorted through the crowds to the set of speakers where holly had said she was waiting with her husband, chris. the street at that point wasn't full yet, but i couldn't see them. i trotted up about fifty yards towards the starting line and into the thickening crowd, but still nothing.

i began to panic a little. i felt like my 20 mile and freescale marathon experiences had been harder because i'd been alone. part of my race plan this time from the beginning had been to stick with holly, whose time trial forecast a 4:05 time for her, five minutes faster than my own predicted time. this would have us running at a pace of 9:22 per mile.

i finally found them. we said goodbye to chris and kurt, and went out into the middle of the crowd to get some warmth as we waited for the start. they actually played good music, not the same old melange of overly obvious crowd pleasers that get played at every austin race, and the music was interspersed with information given in multiple languages.

holly was wearing a giant white plastic bag with holes for the arms and head, and we laughed as she continued to produce a variety of objects from under the bag.

the national anthem was sung by a famous local baseball announcer, the president of the sponsoring bank spoke, the wheelchair racers were sent off, then the horn blew at 8:00am, ending twenty-three weeks of training and beginning the race. 47,000 runners began to move.

melissa immediately began to pull away, and i was torn. i knew i couldn't keep up with her pace, but i had to keep dropping back to rejoin holly, who was being disciplined and starting slow.

i retraced the steps of my run the day before, under the millenium park pedestrian bridge, and into the tunnel and across Lower Wacker Drive, except this time, there were people everywhere, cheering, blowing whistles, waving signs, ringing bells. the runners talked excitedly among themselves, and we waved and whooped back at the crowds.

men ran to the sides of the tunnel to relieve themselves, as i had been told was the norm, and i thought about doing it myself. yeah. once again, as always, despite having timed my water consumption and gone twice at the hostel, i had to pee. but i didn't want to lose holly, so i decided to wait. surely she had to pee sometime, right?

coming out of the tunnel, a spontaneous wave of even louder cheering from runners started behind me, and swept up and around me, erupting from the north end of the tunnel and down michigan avenue.

i still had to drop back a number of times to rejoin holly, jogging in place, maneuvering side to side to let runners pass around me, standing up on the curbs. it was the right thing to do - again, holly was being disciplined and avoiding the common mistake of going out too fast, listening to fresh legs and adrenaline, and forgetting you had to do this for 26.2 miles.

we turned west. the first mile was a 10:46 - maybe a little too conservative, but not a cause for concern.

we turned south, and the sidewalks were still jammed with spectators. at times, it was like being in a stadium, with the sound echoing off of old buildings and masterpieces of architecture, and folding back on itself.

the second mile was a 10:06. we were picking up little by little. at this point, i was still holding back - i felt great. i was running like i have been for the last month or so, in a more upright position, and with a higher, more active, and quicker stride. the left hamstring was feeling a bit harsher than i'd hoped, but the discomfort was familiar and totally manageable.

west again, then north again, through the North Side, and the upscale Gold Coast neighborhood, and into a park area. 9:49, a fast 9:10, and then, just before the five-mile marker... i still really had to pee. we came up on porta potties, and i decided i'd be better off unloading some liquid. i avoided the mcdonald's syndrome, passing up the first bank of toilets with the longer lines, and was into one pretty quickly. during my brief wait, i saw a woman dropping trou and copping a squat behind a tree. well, more or less behind a tree. actually, the tree was fairly pointless.

mile five, then, was a 10:33. not bad. the wind here was biting cold, and i tried to maneuver do draft off of groups of people.

i passed a pair of sisters dressed as Thing One and Thing Two. people cheered for them, some by name, but some in a fashion showing their clear unfamiliarity with the dr. seuss classic - "Go... Blue Haired People!" and "Alright, aliens!" i asked Thing Two if she was annoyed that Thing One always got top billing. she said she was used to it from a lifetime as the kid sister.

9:26 - still good, but i began to realize that i was feeling more taxed at six miles than i should, considering the 20 looming ahead. i decided i would just try to keep my pace above 9:35 per mile, which still gave me a shot at coming in at around 4:10.

9:29. i was still working just a little too hard. we passed near an expressway, and a siren zoomed by, and i thought about danny escobedo, the man that died running the 10K a few weeks ago. i thought, "danny says run." i kept running.

up into Wrigleyville, west, then south. somehow, i missed Wrigley Field. i missed a lot of notable landmarks. i got a sense of the neighborhoods, and recognized some of the downtown buildings i had seen the day before on the architectural boat tour, but later, the most striking landmark i remembered was a best buy that was housed in what looked like a brownstone. this struck me as odd.

9:17, Lincoln Park, 9:34, 9:34, Old Town, past trattoria roma, the italian restaurant i ate at friday night, the place with the snotty guy who answered the phone and with whom i had the following exchange:

"yeah, hi, i'm at clark and division - are you located nearby?"

"oh yeah, real close."

"oh, great. i hate to ask this, but could you possibly give me directions to get there?"

"no, i can't."

"uhhh... ok. alrighty then. thanks a lot."

"goodbye."

the alternative answer was "go west two blocks, go north on wells. we're about five or six blocks up."

asshole.

9:39. clockwork. my form was still energetic, my turnover quick, the footstrikes still somewhat light, because i was picking back up quickly. a runner passed me on my left - long red-brown hair in a pony tail, beard, iPod strapped on the arm, and a massive tattoo on his right calf framing the Zig-Zag man. my friend, Fagan.

i yelled his name. repeatedly. Fagan likes his music loud. i cursed, sped up to catch him, slapped a hand on his shoulder. he was happy to see me, wanted to slow down and talk, but i told him to go on, that it just made me happy to see him. it was true.

south, south, south, the Near North Side, River North, and across the Chicago River for the fourth time, down into The Loop, back among the glorious skyscrapers designed by famous dead european guys, their bases framed by very alive crowds. some very slight inclines. 10:13, 10:02. i was suddenly having to push myself a bit just for those times.

i passed through the halfway point at 2:08:47, just a minute and two seconds shy of my best half-marathon time, set back in january. i was having a little more trouble than i should. i began to realize the pace had been a bit high for me, and i decided to let off a little to try to get the best effort i could through the entire race.

Greek Town. 10:20 for mile 14. i began to feel twinges in my quadricep muscles. they quickly became cramps, first in the right thigh, then the left. the hamstring ceased to be an issue altogether.

here's the thing. that higher, more active stride? great. fast. but having only done it for less than two months, and on no run longer than ten miles, i wasn't conditioned to do it for distance. i burned up more energy, and overused those muscles.

cramps ebb and flow to some extent when you run through them. i got what pace i could when they occasionally receded, and during one such period, i passed holly. i could only mimic her shirt and say "go holly." i knew she was in her own place, and i didn't think i'd be any help to her. i also knew she'd be passing me again. i had to use whatever i had while i had it.

10:22. then, in mile 16, the cramps began to burn more. i stopped to stretch, and moved awkwardly onto the sidewalk to prevent the muscles from completely contracting.

12:12, 11:16. Little Italy. smaller buildings, a mix of homes and shops and businesses, old streets, but still, crowds out in force, music. i drank it up - got high fives from little kids and adults, too, waved back at them.

a runner came up beside me and said he'd seen me consistently through the race. he asked how i was doing, and i told him i was fighting off some cramps. he told me it would be worth it to take a couple of minutes to stop and stretch, jump back in and, he said with a smile, "then you come catch us."

so there i was. 4:05, 4:10, 4:20 - those times weren't going to happen. the epiphanies i had reached about running in the past month, after the meltdowns and after quitting and walking off a race course for the first (and last) time, and my reunion with what running is all about, were being tested. i wanted to stop, but there was never really a question of that. i wanted to walk, wanted to let up.

but there's too often been questions in my head - did i really push as hard as i could? could i have held that pace a little longer? what if what i'm feeling isn't that bad, and i just don't know any better?

i still wanted to finish, and still wanted a time that would be an improvement over my freescale run. but my primary goal just became to push myself as far as i possibly could for the rest of the race, no matter what. no questions this time, no regrets.

i told myself just to get to the next mile marker, then i could walk. then i wouldn't. as each mile began to seem increasingly interminable, i picked street corners - just get there, then i can walk... ok, no, let's not stop yet. here's a street lined with people. they really seem to care - i can't stop here. maybe when the crowd thins out. no, not yet.

11:28. just past the 18 mile mark, it was like someone flushed my right out with clean, cool water. the pain disappeared completely, and receded significantly in my left leg, too.

this lasted for not even half a mile, but it was enough to get a 10:53 in the 19th mile.

the old Czech neighborhood of Pilsen. i was walking through the water and gatorade stops, but never for more than 10-20 feet.

Little Village. mexican dancers, dresses swirling, arms curving gracefully. a woman with styrofoam cups of what i later heard was either margaritas, or tequila. the crowds were local, and entirely enthusiastic. working class folks were out with boxes of food, sitting out in chairs to watch a bunch of people run through their neighborhood. a trio of little girls sat on a curb and chanted, "si, se puede, si se puede."

11:16. six miles left - a 10K. i looked at my watch, and knew there was little chance of a 4:30, and a danger of pushing past my 4:54 previous best. and, there was the danger of not finishing. it was strange - it seemed like an option, almost a reality, but one i just kept deferring.

11:44 into Chinatown. drums and bells and rich spicy smells, dragons dancing in high definition color in the momentary sunlight, undulating alongside us on the streets in rustles of crepe paper.

12:00. Bridgeport, running south alongside the Dan Ryan Expressway.

wall. stumbling at times now, trying to make the legs move through the misfiring muscles that were contracting whenever they pleased, as much as they pleased. my chest has a tried soreness, too, but that's ok. stop, squat to stretch. loosen the sock on my right foot that's crushing the tip of one of my toes. i stop a couple of times in the 23rd mile. 14:23.

Bronzeville, and we turn north again, back onto Michigan Avenue. three miles left. calculate time. i hate that Oprah is going to beat me again with her 4:29 in New York. it's just not right. but, i begin to see that i can beat my freescale time by 10 minutes.

i'm doing a stiff-legged parody of running now, with grunting occasionally involved. i stop a couple of more times to stretch. back into downtown. 12:37. Prairie District, the familiar sight of downtown.

i'm too slow. i can't afford to be this slow. please, please, just let the cramps fade one more time, just give me that. just past the 40K sign, 24.8 miles, 1.4 miles to go, they let up a little. i speed up. 14:11 in the 25th mile, but the reprieve in my legs continues. they're leaden, but not hurting, and i can control them. i try to recover the form i started with.

the crowds are still here, but i can hear the bigger crowds near the finish.

a sign says there's 800 meters left. i turn right on roosevelt, towards the Field Museum and Shedd Aquarium. i don't see them, though, just like i have somehow missed Soldier Field to my right.

at the moment, i am more stunned by what i see. there was no elevation map for the course, because there is no real change in elevation - it's all flat, which is why it's such a fast course. but there before me, with about 600 meters left to go in the race, is the one real hill on the whole damned course.

fuck this, i think. i'm from austin. these people don't know shit about hills. i take the hill with no change in pace. the quads remain silent.

turn left into the most beautiful 200 yards i've ever seen - straight, lined with bleachers and cheering crowds, the green banner over the finish clear, the yellow numbers of the race clock clicking away. i pick up, i'm taller again, shoulders back, hips under me, and i know my legs aren't going to let me down for this.

i turn in a great 200 meter sprint. at 100, i throw it all out, and i'm blowing past people and i hear the crowd respond, and the pain is excruciating, but it's worth it, and it's almost over, and then it is.

water, volunteers congratulating, shiny space blankets, scores of runners shawled in those shiny space blankets ahead of me, rustling like one giant silver version of the dragons in chinatown.

i'm a little delirious, i can't grasp that it's over. it had seemed like it wouldn't end. i cry. i'm freezing. i get my medal - they take the time to hang it around my neck. i cry, but no one can see it between the hat and the blanket. god, it hurt so much for so long. i love the weight of the medal around my neck. i hate my time, but i beat it, i beat pain and doubt. that is who i am today, who we all are today, and i feel the burn of it in my legs and the deadness of it in my lungs and the weight of it hanging around my neck, and i love it. i cry, and i clutch it to my chest, and there is nothing else.