Chicago Marathon 2015

2015 marks my fifth Bank of America Chicago Marathon (pardon the corporate name), fourth as a Nike Pace Team member, and tenth marathon overall.

Quite honestly, the marathon this year was superfluous--a pleasant excuse to go to Chicago with my lovely wife without children. Now, to be clear, I love my children dearly. However, Julie and I have far too seldom gone away just the two of us. We don't even do date night very well or regularly. Suffice to say, I was eager to simply flee to the big city with her.

A recurring pattern seems to have developed in regard to my going away: an intense busy-ness in the days preceding departure that leaves me nearly wrecked physically and emotionally. In this instance, it was the usual litany of sermons and meetings, coupled with the children's busy-ness, compounded by the casualties of their friends, every one of them (so it seemed) succumbing to the agony of illness and likely to have infected our own children. Anxieties were high all around.

Thursday morning finally arrived, at which point we packed up, got the kids to school, and hit the bricks. This was what Julie and I had been so eager for for so many weeks: to get away, just the two of us, and to be engaged in a "we can't turn back now" commitment to the weekend, trusting grandparents (and God's gracious help) in ensuring that all would be well at home in our absence. We got as far as Sioux City before Starbuck's beckoned. Coffee and breakfast sandwiches procured, we talked mostly, accompanied by the usual array of musical genius (Jim James, Edward Sharpe, The Head and the Heart, et al), and NPR news. The drive to Des Moines was pleasant, as anxiety was peeled off, layer by layer, mile by mile.

In Des Moines, we settled on The Juice Company (Roosevelt neighborhood) for a quick lunch-on-the-go of smoothies and Clif Bars. Filling up on gas in the West Branch area, Julie took over at the wheel while I settled into the heavily reclined back seat for Mad Max: Fury Road. It was outstanding, though watching the moving whist driving in a car was perhaps a bit too real. In any case, it got us quite a way east on I-88.

Finally arriving in West Chicago, we made a quick stop at our friends, Kay & Clem, to visit and pick up a package. After a swat on the ass from Clem to Julie, we hustled to Geneva to meet our friends Kevin and Mary. Dinner at Preservation Wine & Bread followed; a top-ten-all-time meal of small plates and two bottles of exceptionally good red wine. Only slightly lit, we made our way back to West Chicago for a quick visit to Shane & Wendy. Finally, well past our bedtime, we arrived at Will & Esther's for more talk and a terribly late bedtime.

Friday morning, I donned my Nike gear, Julie donned her shopping clothes, and we hit it for downtown. The trip from Wheaton to the city was familiar to us; we made it hundreds of times while living there. It was a joy to turn on WXRT and reminisce. At State Street, I dropped off Jule and made my way to McCormick Place for the marathon expo. Agonizing over the outrageous parking ramp fees, I parked and made my way in, soaking up the buzz of race weekend. I picked up my packet, made a quick spin through the hall, visited with my former triathlon training partner Andy (who works for Nuun), and eventually settled in for my three hour Nike Pace Team shift. The first hour was miserably slow, but it was fun to visit with folks, especially the first-timers, and the final two hours went quickly. Shortly after 3:00 p.m. I raced to the van, dodged traffic to State Street, and rendezvoused with Julie. We drove to Streeterville, found a parking spot, and made the short walk to the Museum of Contemporary Art. We had all of one hour to survey this museum that I had long wanted to visit, but always found to be a distant second to the Art Institute. It was, for the most part, a disappointment. The 8th Blackbird display and nice man behind the desk who gave us a student rate and restaurant recommendations were the highlights. An hour was more than enough.

After the museum and no small amount of deliberation, we made our way to Francesca's in the old Seneca Hotel for dinner. It was inspired: quiet, well-appointed, good food, and good service. We shared a salad, entree, and dessert, all of which were outstanding. After our leisurely meal, we made a quick stop into Macy's at Water Tower Place to look for a denim shirt for Sophie. I hadn't been department store shopping in a long, long time. It was fun. People were out in force, and it was a classic Friday night vibe.

We decided to following this short shopping excursion with a trip to the north side and our favorite jazz club--The Green Mill. Al Capone's former hangout retains it's Prohibition Era mystique but has evolved into a world-class jazz venue. We arrived to some impossibly gifted dude killing it on a Hammond B-3 organ (more blues than jazz), and decided to stay for drinks (old school) and The Lawrence Hobgood Trio. After a long day, we were tired, the drinks were making us sleepy, and as the crush of people increased in the small venue the warmth became stultifying. We gutted it out, however, and were rewarded with a nearly euphoric musical experience. It resulted in our joy and three disks purchased to the tune of $45 (no small amount after a $30 cover charge and expensive drinks!). Finally home, we once again stayed up way too late talking with Will & Es, finally getting to bed around 1:00 a.m.

Saturday was glorious. We slept late. Julie and Es went shopping. Will and I drove his new Jeep to Egglectic (a past favorite haunt) for breakfast, and then to REI for gear (me: looking; Will: buying). Back home, we reclined on the couch for chips, hummus, and football (Michigan v. Northwestern in the Big House; both Will and Es received advanced degrees from the Evanston school). The entire afternoon was one of great rest. In the evening, Will and I ran to Magliano's for carry-out, and after dinner and more sports (this time, game two of the Cubs v. Cardinals in the NLDS), I packed up and hit the sack.

I didn't sleep exceptionally well, but I seldom do the night before a race. I woke up at 4:00 a.m. for coffee and a bowl of granola, followed by ablutions and dress. Julie, Will, and Es were also up, and wishing goodbyes I made my way solo into the city (they would follow later). The drive in was serene. I prayed. It was cool, but pleasant. I parked in the Grant Park underground lot and made my way to the Nike Pace Team tent by Buckingham Fountain. Many were already gathered, and I quickly settled in to bling my pacer sign and straighten my uniform.

After praying (my first for the group of 100), we hit the streets to assume our positions in the starting corals. Rich, my longtime pacing partner, and I were again the 3:35:00 team in Coral B. We assembled our troops and enjoyed the immense energy of an early morning start on Columbus Drive in Chicago with 44,998 other committed souls. At 7:30 a.m., we slowly made our way to the starting line, and from there took off at a brisk pace (8:12 miles) with hopes of ending 3:34:30 later at the very place we were starting.

The course takes you on a winding path through the Loop, into River North, and alongside Lake Michigan (generally) north towards Lincoln Park. Up north, we turn back west, and begin the long trek back into the city. Julie found me at miles 5 and 10, encouraging my spirit and showing incredible brilliance in fearlessly navigating the city's public transportation solo. We had a good, generally quiet group (Tom from New York; Thalicia from Chicago; Katerina from Spain; Dmitri from Moscow), and the crowds were able to occupy our attention over the first 11 miles or so. Back in the city, near mile 12, my left knee developed a burning pain that I'd never experienced before. It was nearly debilitating, but I figured I could run through it. Thoughts of enduring the pain for another two hours was, at that point, unthinkable. I prayed.

By mile 14, it had largely dissipated. By mile 15, it was gone, though a new discomfort had crept in: simple fatigue. My legs were beginning to feel heavy and my body was burning: it was uncharacteristically hot and windy. Furthermore, miles 15 to 20 are generally the most difficult and unpleasant of the race, in terms of both neighborhoods and point of the race (the discomfort by this time is nearly unavoidable and multiplies quickly). Dmitri theory of physics that in heat, miles expand was becoming unpleasantly true. It was quickly becoming gruesome for me and most everyone else.

I continued to look ahead to mile 23, at which point I would once again see Julie. After seeing her, I regrouped. Just in time, as it turned out, as my partner Rich was beginning to succumb to the heat and exertion. It was a great example of carrying each other: he carrying me over miles 19-22; me carrying him over miles 22-26. The final three miles of the race were less unpleasant than previous years, however still quite agonizing. We had a tailwind and the hope of a finish squarely on time--3:34:30. We raced over the line at exactly 3:34:34, and were joined by grateful members of our group, many of whom would use the race (and outstanding time) as a ticket to the Boston Marathon in April. It was a great success, and a joy to be a part of so many people's aspirations.

I felt quite good as I made my way back to the tent, stretched, gathered my gear, and walked back to the van (and Julie). Together again, we high-tailed it out of the city, stopping in Schaumburg for Portillo's, and made our way home. It was a great trip.