4 posts tagged “chicago”
I got an email today from the Chicago Marathon folks at LaSalle that indicated registration for 2007 is now open.
Aside from an almost immediate, "will I? won't I?" debate with my id about entering the race itself, and taking another crack at Boston, my main reaction was amazement that they've expanded the open entry field to forty-five thousand frickin' people. That's bigger than the entire population of the town in Michigan I mostly grew up in (Midland) and it just has to be a logistical stretch. Grant Park, the staging area for the start and finish, can fit an awful lot of people, but even this year's field of ~40,000 felt like it was pushing the boundaries.
If there's an organizing committee that can pull it off, it's Carey Pinkowski's at LaSalle. Runners from here, there, and everywhere whom I've talked to agree that Chicago is very well-organized, thoroughly staffed with dedicated volunteers and has a buzz and raceday vibe that only a few other endurance events of any stripe can hope to match. But is any bigger really any better? Should potential entrants take a little responsibility into their own hands and register early if you know the damned thing's hugely popular and will fill up months in advance?
HB, that Grand Rapids Marathon is sounding like a real back-to-basics treat right about now.
I've been gone almost a month. I've got no good excuse for not stopping by to say "hullo." Here's what's happened:
- I got my butt kicked at the Turkey Trot 8K in Chicago on Thanksgiving morning. The first mile was great — a 6:48 pace — but somewhere in mile 2, both calves locked up much like they did almost a month earlier at the Marathon. I mean, come on. Electrolyte cramping at mile two, for crissake? Something was horribly wrong with the machinery, and I finished in pain, posting a 36:05 / (7:16 pace). Sure, that sounds decent overall, but I pretty much couldn't walk afterwards, as soon as things stiffened up nicely. It took until the Monday after T-Giving to descend a flight of stairs without a full handrail kung fu grip. I'm a kinesiology research project waiting to happen. What kind of post-marathon blues are these?
- Still no HDTV at the Shobe household. I think it will be highly correlated with a basement remodeling project. Wefloat, I'm heeding your advice about not renovating 100% of the house at once.
- Registration is closed for the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon (half marathon). I'm a sucker for massive entry fields. 35K+ are signed up for this May 2007 event. I'll be running this one with a good friend from early running days in Chicago who's since moved to Ohio; Indy's a good halfway point for both of us to meet up.
- I ran 5 miles today in balmy December conditions here in ye olde Park Ridge, IL. Excellent conditions. None of the symptoms from the Turkey Trot plagued me, and even though I've only run 6 other miles total since Thanksgiving, I managed to find my "home" pace of 7:28, the ghost of Boston qualification past (and present). I'm positively thrilled.
- steveobd heckled into spending more quality time with my XBox 360. You know what? It's a pretty kick ass system, and their execution of the online gameplay experience via XBox Live is the gold standard. The headset smacktalk system is genius hardware/software integration, and the ability to find friends and challenge them to a quick game of Whatever is exactly as simple as it should be. (I can only hope Major Nelson is a little bit proud of me, as a 36 year old getting back in touch with his 18 year old gamer self.) Good luck, Sony. You're gonna need it, at least where online is concerned.
How have you been doing?
As it should be, the 2006 Chicago Marathon was a memory-making machine of a day. It had it all: a primed throng of almost 40,000 runners from all corners of the globe; a petulant, ill-willed race time weather forecast; Chicago's incomparable Wayne Messmer barreling his way through the National Anthem; and a champion who, I didn't learn until much later, nearly knocked himself unconscious just inches from snapping the tape.
Let's get the "bad" news out of the way first: I didn't achieve my A1 goal of qualifying for the Boston Marathon. I was 13 minutes, 18 seconds short of the cutoff, which is 3:15:59 for a 36 year old grinder like me. My time was 3:29:17, a 7:58 mile/minute pace overall. I had to hit 7:28 overall to make this thing happen. Here's why I believe I missed the mark:
- Tough Start. I did not prequalify into one of the "Preferred" corrals that are gated ahead of the open running field. This means that the pace group I most wanted to be situated with — the 3:10s — wasn't available to me, and I had a huge field in front of me that required a ton of energy to dodge and weave through in order to make up lost time. My first 5K split was 24:33, which put me almost 2 minutes in the hole before I'd barely gotten warmed up. For me to have a shot at this at all, I needed to be able to run as close to 7:28 as possible from the very start. I just didn't have it in me to run multiple sub-7 minute miles to make back the deficit, and I knew I was well off the pace with a 1hr 39m time at the halfway mark. I wish I'd been in town the weekend of the one half marathon here that acts as a summer pre-qualifier (the Chicago Distance Classic), but I wasn't, so that left me in the open field.
- Difficult Winds. It was windy and raw (but mostly dry) for the race itself, gusting hard out of the northwest at up to 30mph. The wind was an annoyance during the first long westbound stretch shortly after the halfway mark; it became a mortal enemy where it would do the most damage, between miles 24 and 26. This part of the course was a straight shot north along Michigan Avenue, and despite the huge cheering crowds I felt like I was barely making any headway at all. A cold wind like that silently saps your strength, no matter how warm you think you are, and it was all I could do to let out the clutch at the end of the final water stop at mile 25. It was the first time during the race I actually allowed myself to think about walking. I'm glad I didn't, but you can be reasoned into almost any position on any topic in that combined physical/mental state.
- Hydration/Electrolytes. This is probably the point that I handled most irresponsibly in terms of preparation. I must not have hydrated properly in the run-up to the race because I suffered a cramp in my right calf the likes of which I cannot recall from any other run, including the 2001 marathon. It cinched up on me in the middle of mile 22 and forced me to hop over to the side of the road, stretch it out as best I could with a nearby lamppost, and then continue on my way. At that moment I also decided to lay off what little sprint power I had left at that stage for fear of having no running reserve whatsoever. During the race, I hit almost every gatorade stop and ate four gel packets, even to the point of my stomach starting to register protest, so I think my in-race management was okay. But I don't believe I was topped up going in.
All three factors combined to rob me of 13 minutes I may or may not have had on my side of the table this year. We'll never know whether an ideal fall day and a front-running corral assignment could have helped enough, but who cares. Control what you can control and put everything else under the best effort you're capable of that day, and don't bother what-if-ing when it's over. My runner-up prize, cutting my 2001 marathon time of 4:01:34 by more than 32 minutes, is pretty gratifying.
Here are some of my clearest memories from the course:
- Wayne Messmer's National Anthem rendition. It's just so Chicago to kick it off that way.
- Stepping over more trash — gloves, trash bags, sweat pants from the eighties, a few gatorade bottles filled with, uhm, not Gatorade — than you can realistically imagine the 15,000 runners ahead of you can shuck at the starting horn. You absolutely have to watch your step or you're going down.
- There was a guy in front of me for a bit, around mile 5, with a shirt from some race that read on the back, "Marathon: A 10K following a 20 mile warmup" shirt. Not motivating. Thanks, guy.
- Mile 7. Spectator in a SF Giants cap shouts and points at me, "Two-Seven-Seven-Two-Six, that's what I'm talkin' about!" as I pass (that's my bib number). I really appreciated the attention to detail.
- Mile 17, a regret. Somehow not seeing my friends/co-workers from FeedBurner at their appointed spot. They were definitely there and saw me pass by but by then I was already fretting about the pace and didn't put my best look-for-em eyes out when I passed those designated positions.
- Mile 20-ish Orange Slice Lady. A kindly older woman handed out orange wedges as fast as runners came by her spot on 18th St in Pilsen. It totally hit the spot, as I was getting fairly sick of Gatorade Endurance Formula and chocolate gel by that point.
- Karno! I damn near caught Dean Karnazes just before mile 24. Yes — the very same guy running the Endurance 50. He wasn't surrounded by a huge throng of runners as I'd expected; in fact, only three or four people with "Endurace 50" singlets seemed to be keeping pace with him at that moment. He was chugging along like the Santa Fe War Bonnet, and at that very late stage I had to choose: keep up the speed to catch Dean and compose something better than "How's it going, Dean? Do you like Chicago?" as a greeting, or finish the damn race. I tried to keep him in my sights, but once we hit the wind tunnel on Michigan Avenue, it was over. (Somehow, I only finished one minute behind him. However, I can barely walk, and he's already knocked off marathon #37 in Minnesota.)
- The wind down Michigan Ave, drowned out by cheers. A HUGE crowd turned out to line Michigan Avenue south of Balbo, which is the 2-mile stretch just before the dogleg turn into the finish chute. This is a significant course change since 2001, and it's massive change for the better. As relentless as that wind was, the encouragement from both sides of the street was even better. In better conditions, this new finishing route should really charge up anyone struggling toward the end.
- Spotting my family in bleachers, just 100 yards from the finish. I'd missed them at least once on the course, but there they were, and they spotted me the moment I spotted them. I was a huge thrill and the perfect way to end the run. I had no big kick left, but I wasn't hobbling over the line, either, and I made as steady a drive across the threshold as I could.
