{race report} Chicago Marathon 09

The last time I ran a marathon, I took the Boltbus. This time, I am flying to Chicago…with some trepidation. The week before the race finds me frantically combing through my running log and training plans with that sinking feeling. It finally dawns on me that, thanks to my so called life (and sore knee), I have completed fewer long runs and less total mileage than ever before. Some of my long runs were dire.  I worry, is a dark running cloud following me?

Chicago is my kind of town. A stroll through Millennium Park reveals flowered landscapes reminiscent of London’s Green Park, Grant Park (the setting of Obama’s election night speech) and the Jay Pritzker pavilion, an outdoor concert site designed by Frank Gehry. Its steel ribbons adorn the cityscape (once referred to as the City of the Big Shoulders.) We pass the Cloud Gate, an elliptical sculpture reflecting the skyline and the Crown Fountain, glass block towers that project video images of Chicagoans amidst jets of water. The Art Institute of Chicago’s Modern building is airy, light filled and uncrowded. We contemplate the mastery of a Magritte sunset. While passing the Gold Coast (Oprahland), overlooking Lake Michigan, we glimpse a beach with palm trees!  We recall The Spirit of the Marathon documentary, wondering, “is this where they trained?”

The food is terrific. At Mercat a La Planxa, we savor Barcelona tapas and pineapple mojitos. The flavors are bold and vivid.  Andrea discovers a night-before-the- race gem, Fianco-a neighborhood trattoria; new wave, yet hearty Italian fare. Jane and Ralph, married, veteran marathoners (and doctors!) bring a lighthearted air to dinner, reminding us to enjoy the ride.

We taunt the marathon gods by running in customary but new sneakers (Andrea), a brand new Chicago Marathon shirt (Jean) and a 2007 Vermont Marathon shirt (my own brand of lunacy.)

The race is huge, yet every detail is impeccably orchestrated (lightening quick check in at the expo, plentiful porta potties, Gatorade and water.) Waiting for the race, it is so very cold. By mid race, the temperature reaches the 50’s and it is sunny.

People are disconcertingly nice. They say “excuse me, sorry” over and over again during the inevitable jostling. The enormity of the race is sensed while turning some corners where we slow runners come to an almost complete stop. Tee shirts of note: “I want to beat Oprah’s time” and (two) “Unemployed financial analyst looking for work.”

I have decided to run with a pace group. What the heck? I even try out the pace tattoo provided at the expo. The pace group compels an initial slow down. Although I inevitably lose the group and add some time at the end, I don’t experience that soul killing, bone-weary tiredness of 20 plus miles. The pace tattoo is an agreeable distraction, visible evidence of the miles traversed.

We pass majestic skyscrapers, quirky architecture, hip neighborhoods, the Chicago River and the zoo. There are mariachi bands and in Boystown, the Righteously Outrageous Twirling Corp and men in drag serenade us.

Running through the silvered city, my dark cloud of running anxiety dissipates! Jean and Andrea achieve PR’s. Walking back to the hotel, Midwesterners heartily congratulate us on the running. All evening, runners in street clothes wear their medals without east coast irony. We are a long, happy way from home.

Tagged as: Chicago, Chicago Marathon