10,000 Miles: 2016 Chicago Lakefront 50k

Note: It took me longer than usual to write and upload this post. Let’s just say I’m happy to write a story about a race that ended well.

Sunrise in Chicago

Sunrise in Chicago

In the fall of 2009, with my legs still reeling from my first marathon, I was stunned to discover that there was an even longer race that took place just three weeks afterward. A colleague who worked in the mailroom told me he had been walking along the lake front path and seen people running with bibs, up and down the path, all day. I had never heard of it and no one seemed to talk about it. If the Chicago Marathon attracted 40,000 runners and over a million spectators, why did this race, which was 4.9 miles longer, not attract just as many, or even more?

Start / Mile 10.37 / Mile 20.7 / Finish

Start / Mile 10.37 / Mile 20.7 / Finish

Year after year, I was quietly taunted by this timid race. The Chicago Lakefront 50/50, as it is known, takes place every year on the city’s beautiful park paths that line Lake Michigan, usually three weeks after the city’s marquee race. This might be a strategic move, as it not only takes advantage of the typical drop in temperature, but also allows diehard locals to use Carey Pinkowski’s world class event as the start of a mega-taper, culminating in a 50k or 50-mile race. Every year I considered giving it a shot, but I would always end up signing up for an out-of-state race, or opt to run a shorter distance instead, a decision usually forced by a late season injury.

But the 2016 race season was turning out to be an interesting one. It began with my second attempt at the 50-mile distance, which sucked the speed out of my legs in favor of endurance, and then continued into the summer with some unremarkable marathon performances. Upon finishing the Newport Marathon in a time I might have considered fast six years ago, part of me wanted to end the year on a higher note. Ice Age had added a bright sheen of success to my race exploits, which had started to quickly fade.

Lakeshore & Fullerton; Chicago skyline

Lakeshore & Fullerton; Chicago skyline

It wasn’t until my buddy Otter told me he was checking the weather for the Lakefront 50/50 just days before the event that I decided to register. Of course, the day after I did, the weekend forecast immediately jumped ten degrees.

Although it might sound like I’m prepping the reader for another disastrous race beset by heat, I was lucky to avoid that. In fact, the day was near perfect for a long, meditative run crisscrossing paths that have become intimately familiar to me. The race began in characteristically quiet fashion just south of Foster Beach on the lakefront trail. The 50-milers had started an hour earlier, so we were left to mingle with an incredibly diverse group of 50k runners. Long distance running, especially in large cities, is a mostly white sport, but I would have never guessed that as I listened to the sounds of pre-race jitters in several languages.

The course would trace a five-mile path south to Castaways, a bar and event space modeled after a marooned ship, whose crew decided to surround with beach volleyball courts. From there, we would turn around and retrace our exact steps back to the start, and then repeat the process two more times for a total distance of 31.1-miles. Aid stations would greet us every 2.5 miles, whose assortment of cookies, potato chips, Nutella, and fluids held us in place for longer than the standard 10-second visit.

A sample aid station spread

A sample aid station spread

The lakefront trail is never closed, even for races. This meant that at any point, we were running alongside casual runners, cyclists, walkers, and families. Under normal circumstances, this would bug me. You expect race officials to clear the course for runners so you’re not faced with unexpected weaving or dodging. But having run thousands of miles on this path, I wouldn’t have wanted to clear it. Chicago is a city that loves its parks and knows to enjoy beautiful weather while it’s an option. Despite bibbed runners having to take a more serpentine approach to the path to avoid weekend warriors, we felt like we were blending in, again, ever so quietly.

Right around where I ran my 10,000th mile

Right around where I ran my 10,000th mile

It was warm for late October, but perfect for a long run. Although the sun had been shining just over the horizon as we began, a grey screen was eventually pulled across the sky. Autumn leaves crunched below us, often brushed aside by a reliable eastward breeze.

As with any race that repeats certain sections, each iteration was a completely different experience. The first lap was meant to develop an impression, the second challenged you to stay strong, and the third dragged you home. I ran the first twenty miles comfortably, but began to lose speed right around mile 25. I reached the marathon mark in 3:49, right at the last turnaround, with five north-facing miles separating me from the finish. My phone buzzed in my hands three times and I glanced to find out that Otter had dropped out with IT band issues.

I gave myself a moment to shake my head in solidarity as I know how the dogged the struggle can be to vanquish IT band pain. But he knew it was the smart thing to do. I continued on the path, whose many turns, splits, ponds, landmarks, and recreational areas have become almost sacred territory. These were the roads that made me a runner, that pulled me farther from my comfort zone and built the foundation for what I hope will be lifelong endurance. It was almost transcendental when I learned that somewhere between that last turnaround and the finish line, after almost eight years of running and meticulously tracking every step, I ran my 10,000th mile. There, on the path that gave me my runner’s legs, the trail that has allowed me to cover paths in almost every state, I was back where it all started.

Fourth ultra in the books

Fourth ultra in the books

I ran into Steph’s uncle Jim at mile 29. He biked alongside me for a quarter mile and seeing a familiar face allowed me to speed up ever so slightly. It wasn’t just theatrics, as I wasn’t completely dead. But the bottoms of my feet were so beat that my insoles felt like they were made of sandpaper and nails, and my calves were one kick away from a harsh cramp. But I kept a workmanlike pace through the dirt path around Cricket Hill and toward Foster Beach. There were no large crowds, just a handful of spectators and even fewer fatigued runners beneath a rapidly thinning orange ceiling. In just my fifth ultramarathon, I crossed the finish line in 4 hours and 40 minutes, a half hour faster than my 50k PR.

I stayed for a few minutes to let my legs rest and watch runners trickle in, about one every five minutes. It was quiet, as if everyone were keeping a secret. Like most other ultras I have run, the event felt clandestine, almost forbidden. Runners were blending into their surroundings, focused and happy in their isolation. They weren’t there for the crowds, thunderous applause, or the deep bass thuds of the year’s most popular single. The Lakefront 50/50 and its faithful handful don’t really care about any of that.

You see, the Chicago Marathon is a spectacle; the handsome quarterback who parades down the halls and beams a cover-worthy smile to everyone who sees him. The floor clears ahead of him and his posse fawns from the sidelines, ready to do whatever it takes to get or stay on his good side. He points at you and you point back, but you don’t always know why. He’s the one destined for greatness and can do no wrong. The Lakefront 50/50 though, watches him walk by and moves on with his day. The 50/50 plays in an intramural rugby league after school with a small group of rebels, usually sharing the field with soccer drills. He doesn’t have a uniform or use expensive gear, but he makes up for the glitz in blood, sweat, and the occasional cracked bone. His legs are bruised, his shoes leave behind him a speckled mudpath, and very few people come out to see him play.

But they both love their sport and go home happy.

The lake front path, my winding home away from home

The lake front path, my winding home away from home

 

I Can Fix This: 2016 Rock ‘n Roll Chicago Half Marathon

This is a post about how to inject some much-needed vitality and vigor into the Rock ‘n Roll Chicago Half Marathon. But first:

#TeamChance

For their third year, the Jackson Chance Foundation partnered with the Humana Rock & Roll Chicago Half Marathon as an official charity and asked me to be their running coach. I happily accepted and once again created running programs, led weekly runs, and provided tips on training and preparation. The foundation’s goal, in their own words:

“Jackson Chance Foundation’s (JCF) mission is to enrich the lives of families with babies in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) by allowing them to spend more time with their baby. JCF created the NICU Transportation Program to partner with hospitals and alleviate the transportation expenses of all families while their child is in the NICU by providing parking and CTA/Metra vouchers. The programs are fully funded by JCF. Currently, the foundation’s program benefits the Ann & Robert H. Lurie Children’s Hospital of Chicago. Jackson Chance Foundation is an Illinois non-for-profit, tax exempt 501(c) (3) organization.

By contributing to the Jackson Chance Foundation, you help families be with their critically ill child, thus enriching and potentially extending their life.”

For donations or more information, please visit their website.

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Another Year of Wondering, Where’s the Rock?

It was a beautiful spring and early summer for training, and throughout it I had the pleasure of exploring Chicago’s Lincoln Park with runners in tow, learning about them as people and enjoying the city’s pristine parks and lakefront path. There was actually one run where I mentioned to Alan, who would join almost every organized run, that I was looking forward to spending some time outdoors, given how lovely the weather was. The conversation paused for a second as we both realized we were doing just that, in that moment, as we logged miles under the sun.

On July 17, I lined up for my fourth running of Chicago’s Rock & Roll Half Marathon, which until recently was the only 13.1-mile race run primarily within the city’s core. Every other half marathon takes place either Lincoln Park or the lakefront paths south of the city, which are open to everyday cyclists and walkers. The race has changed since 2010 in ways that perhaps indicate broader changes in the running industry.

The first six miles of the course were unchanged from last year.

The first six miles of the course were unchanged.

The first time I ran this race, I was one of over 18,000 finishers, making the race one of the largest in the city and nation. It was the only distance offered, won in its previous and inaugural year by Kara Goucher in 1:08:04, ahead of any other competitor, male or female. There was something electrifying about it, as if the amplifiers in the marketing materials could short circuit and infuse us all with speed.

Since then, the event has seen itself diluted considerably. Although the course has improved, with less of it run on thin, open park paths and more in the city’s famous and dense Loop, the event has lost a lot of its energy. In 2014, the race gave its 13,866 half marathon finishers a half-mile stretch of speakers, all arranged to play the same hard-hitting song to motivate runners for more than the standard 30 seconds it takes to be out of earshot of a performer. I was lucky to run through that section to the galloping rush of Ozzy’s “Crazy Train” and the thundering sludge of Metallica’s “Sad But True.”  It was amazing and an instant reminder of how races can use creative solutions to not only bolster the race experience, but in this case, elevate and sharpen their brand. Plus, they got Shalane Flanagan to run it, so I was awestruck and giddy to follow in her speedy footsteps.

In 2015, only 12,025 runners made it to the finish line, a slight dip from the year before. I remember feeling like the “rock” had been left out of the experience, with electronica playing constantly during the expo, the speaker stretch now booming Whitney Houston and the organizers tapping Andy Grammer as the headline act for the post-race party. I understood that rock was either convalescent or comatose in popular culture, so I hoped they would at least change the name of the race, like they did for many years with their Nashville equivalent, the Country Music Marathon.  However, they made up for all of this by roping in Olympian and Boston Marathon Champion Meb Keflezighi to pace the 1:30 group, which I joined for the first four miles.

This year, it seemed like organizers were out of both ideas and money. There were no big name runners leading the pack, no legends to pace us, no big headline act, no half-mile stretch of motivational rawk, no abundance of bands …

Heavy rain on its way to cool off runners

Heavy rain on its way to cool off runners

If this is starting to sound petulant, let me explain that these are merely observations and not complaints. After all, I don’t really care about any of this. All I need is a 13.1-mile stretch of road or trail, a few aid stations, and a chip to record my time and I’ll finish with a smile. And an hour and 34 minutes after starting, that’s what I did. But I was left wondering. It’s not necessary that the race director hire Amy Hastings as a pacer, or that Tool play to a crowd of sweaty and tired athletes, or that every mile be dotted with cover bands playing Bon Jovi and the Killers.

But when the market is as crowded as it is lately, this race has to double down on its brand or risk runners losing too much interest. Lucky for them, the half marathon is still growing in participation nationwide. The 2015 State of the Sport assembled by Running USA states that “the half marathon continues to grow with an annual increase of 4% finishers (2.046 million, another new high) with an astounding 61% female participation.”

In 2016, however, 11,059 runners finished the Rock & Roll Chicago Half Marathon, almost 1,000 fewer than the year before and over 7,000 fewer than in 2010. To draw more people to the event in recent years, organizers have added shorter distances and spread them over two days, with a 5K on Saturday and a 10K run on Sunday at concurrently with the half marathon. Across all three distances, there were about 16,500 finishers, still fewer than in 2010.

It seems reasonable to suggest that the increase in participation in the half marathon is not due to a growing field at established events, but with the sprouting of new races. For example, when I started running in 2009, there were only four half marathons in Chicago. Today, there are twelve just in the city, and many more in the surrounding suburbs, the majority of which sport less expensive registration fees than Rock & Roll for obvious reasons.

(left to right) Missy, me, Alan

(left to right) Missy, me, Alan

I don’t know if this race is profitable, but I assume it is because it’s now in its eighth year. But as I ran through the course this year and saw how threadbare it was in comparison to years past, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the result of an organization cutting its costs in the wake of shrinking margins. I’m not an economist, but it seems that if the race wants to keep its bottom line healthy, it has to either draw in more people, increase its fees, cut services, or a combination.

Though I haven’t done the research, I’m sure this is not unique to Chicago. The running boom is happening everywhere nationwide and as a consequence, large, established races have likely seen some participation siphoned as interest shifts to newer races with lower fees that offer a similar experience. In order to stay relevant, Rock & Roll needs to do something to either change the game or hone their brand. In 2014, as I ran alongside Metallica’s bluesy thrash, I was reminded of how one great idea can completely change your opinion of an event.

Here are a few suggestions, some free and others unreasonable and cost prohibitive:

  • Upon registration, let runners pick their favorite genre of rock & roll (classic, grunge, metal, indie, acoustic, pop, etc.) and make different bibs for each.
  • Encourage aid stations to theme themselves according to the genres of rock established above.
  • Make Spotify playlists for each genre and share them with runners as they register.
  • Let runners sign up in groups of 3-5 as a “band.” In the results page, have a separate “band results” page that adds up every band member’s finishing time. Encourage bands to dress up and run together.
  • Upon registration, ask every runner to provide a “pump up” song and their target time. At mile 13, have a timing mat that calculates if a runner is going to break that target time, and if so, play 10 seconds of their pump up song to get them to the finish (and I realize that not everyone will get their pump up song played, much like not everyone has their name announced at the finish line).
  • The first seven miles are in the Loop, which doesn’t allow for bands or noise of any sort. Rearrange the course to add more opportunities for music and bands. Music is the brand’s raison d’être, so embrace it!
  • Convert pace cars into a mobile concerts like they do in theme parks and blare some truly sick rock for those willing to run alongside them. Release at variable paces so everyone gets the opportunity.
  • The 90s are back and with a vengeance. I can’t imagine it’s that expensive to hire Better Than Ezra, the Verve Pipe or Third Eye Blind to be your headlining act (also, I heard this year’s band play “Yellow” by Coldplay twice. I shouldn’t have to explain why this is wrong).
  • Hire Pearl Jam to play a 3-hour set afterward.

I look forward to seeing these implemented for the 2017 race. You’re welcome.

The Meb Mob: 2015 Rock ‘n Roll Chicago Half Marathon

The morning of July 19, 2015 was very sticky. Intense thunderstorms had ravaged Chicago a few days prior in brief, but powerful bursts, with temperatures rising and dropping like the needle of a Richter scale. So as I walked to the Team Chance Charity Tent, I knew instantly that I would run the day’s half marathon at a conservative pace, perhaps throwing in a tempo mile or two. With the humidity reaching an uncomfortable level and sweat oozing out of my pores by just walking, it was a no-brainer. But as I neared the speakers of the starting line, I heard something that would change the day’s plan.

“And today we have US Olympic Silver Medalist and 2014 Boston Marathon Champion Meb Keflezighi pacing the 1:30 half marathon group.”

Well, shit.

How many times do you get a chance to run with the gods of the sport? Last year I caught a quick glimpse of the elfin Shalane Flanagan as she stomped through a few pre-race strides near our orange charity tent, but I didn’t get to run with her. She was blazing the trail 20 minutes ahead of me, ultimately winning the women’s race. This year, the organizers brought a professional speed demon and national hero not to compete, but to participate with the throngs of competitive amateur runners like me. There was no way I could pass up the opportunity.

Of course, that didn’t mean that Meb’s 1:30 pace sign waved away the moisture in the air or lowered the mercury, which had reached 80 before any of us had heard the starter’s siren. It was by far one of the warmest starts to a half marathon in recent memory, destined to be a race where it feels like your skin is melting into your shoes. A few minutes before the start, a group of volunteers escorted Meb into my corral, just a few people ahead of me. I knew he wouldn’t be tall, but it was still surprising to see just how short most elite marathoners are. As soon as he arrived, the corral buzzed with energy and he instantly began chatting with the fawning runners around him.

2015 Chicago Rock n Roll Weekend Chicago, Il     July 18-19, 2015 Photo: Victah Sailer@PhotoRun Victah1111@aol.com 631-291-3409 www.photorun.NET

That’s me in the very back with the red sleeveless shirt
Photo credit: Victah Sailer@PhotoRun, Victah1111@aol.com, 631-291-3409, http://www.photorun.NET

I decided early that there was no way I could run the entire race with him. My half marathon PR is 1:29:42, so to run just one second per mile slower would require near perfect conditions. So for the first four city-lined miles, which cut through River North, State Street, and both the Theater and Financial districts, I stayed within three people of the indefatigable Meb Keflezighi, winner of the 2009 New York City and 2014 Boston Marathons, 2004 Olympic Silver Medalist, and all-around nice guy. He was as gregarious as I expected, talking to multiple runners at any given time, sometimes in Spanish, but always with an optimistic, cheery tone. Having defied the odds by staying strong and remarkably consistent well into his late 30s and now early 40s, he’s already a running legend.

There was a veritable peloton surrounding Meb, which I called the “Meb Mob,” with runners weaving in and out of the core to try and get a quick chat with the Eritrean-born athlete. As we reached mile 4, he was in the middle of regaling a nearby runner with stories of last year’s Boston Marathon. I decided then that I couldn’t continue this pace much longer without suffering an early bonk. So after four memorable miles, I decided to slam the brakes.

2015 Chicago Rock n Roll Weekend Chicago, Il     July 18-19, 2015 Photo: Victah Sailer@PhotoRun Victah1111@aol.com 631-291-3409 www.photorun.NET

Again, me in the back in the red.
Photo credit: Victah Sailer@PhotoRun, Victah1111@aol.com, 631-291-3409, http://www.photorun.NET

The Meb Mob pulled ahead and I reduced my speed to my original goal of 8-minute miles. I was already drenched in sweat and more fatigued than I hope to be so early in a half marathon, so now it was time to simply endure. Almost immediately, every runner behind me zipped by as they continued their strong surge to finish in the 1:30s.

The next three miles took place within the city of Chicago, which featured more skyscrapers than spectators or bands. I don’t care much for on-course entertainment or distractions, but the sparse crowds and musical acts seemed to clash with the Rock ‘n Roll brand of event production. This was supposed to be a raucous party with fans and electric guitars competing for screams. In fact, the Expo the day before featured a soundtrack more akin to a rave than a rock concert, and the headlining act for the post-race party was Andy Grammer. I realize that rock songs in the Billboard Hot 100 are like parents at a prom, but it’s still disappointing to hear an EDM-remix of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” strung out across a half mile stretch of speakers where last year I heard Metallica’s “Sad But True.”

The first six miles of the course were unchanged from last year.

The first six miles of the course were unchanged from last year.

I kept my pace through the next three miles, which run down South Michigan Avenue, away from the city. There would be no more crowds until the end of the race, save for volunteers at aid stations and a few gimmicky entertainment spots. I could hear squishing sounds all around me as we continued hammering the pavement on waterlogged shoes. The sun was out, rising before us as we headed east towards Lake Michigan. The next aid station seemed a bit threadbare, which spelled doom for slower runners. Without a volunteer to hand me a cup, I ran to the table and picked one up only to taste Gatorade in its purest, least diluted state. Though I clenched my cheeks and puckered for about a minute, it must have helped because I wasn’t feeling as gassed as I was when I left the city. In fact, I began to notice that I was no longer being passed. My consistent 8-minute pace was now the speed of the drained, flagging runners who had gone out too fast in the first half.

Just before we reached Lake Michigan, the course turned left, back toward the city. This is where I was treated to a good four minutes of Whitney Houston, which I only appreciated for the lyric “I wanna feel the heat” because the damp, warm air had slithered into my clothes. What little shade there was would soon be compensated by the McCormick Center service tunnel, which was bedecked in psychedelic colors, strobe lights and thundering speakers. It made that energy-pulling void a little more bearable, especially since it heralds the final 1.5 mile dash to the finish. Once out and under the race’s iconic inflatable guitar player’s crotch, we visited the last aid station before jumping on Columbus Drive.

It was a beautiful day for existing. Not as ideal for running 13.1 miles.

It was a beautiful day for existing. Not as ideal for running 13.1 miles.

The finish line beckoned, almost 0.7 miles down a straight line. All around the banner were trees, and behind them the city’s imposing skyscrapers erupting out of the ground. It was challenging to know when to start kicking here because everything ahead felt like a mirage and so much farther than expected. But I had covered the last mile at a tempo pace, so I felt comfortable in my new speed. I looked at my watch and saw I was close to finishing under 1:40, so I turned on the afterburners and pulled ahead of everyone I could see. The crowds got thicker, lining the seven-lane Columbus Drive until it was a deafening roar of cheers. I pushed all the way to the finish, leaving behind me a trail of salt and sweat, stopping the clock of my third Rock ‘n Roll Chicago Half Marathon at 1:39:12.

It took me about forty minutes to cool down. I drank cold water, filled a damp towel with ice and rested it on my head, stood still in a southbound breeze – nothing was effective at halting the mutinous sweat from escaping every pore. I sat in the shade and let my heart rate lower, dabbed water on my ears and rubbed a cold sponge on my forehead. Eventually, but very slowly, I began to feel fine.

Team Chance

Team Chance

But though I might have been uncomfortable during the race and a little afterward, I made it out okay. For some people, this isn’t always the case. In the McCormick Tunnel, I saw a group of medical officials huddling around a runner who was lying on the dark pavement, looking shell-shocked and distant. But even he would still turn out alright. Some families don’t have this guarantee. This year, I was honored to be invited back as the running coach for the Jackson Chance Foundation, who once again assembled a lively and supportive charity team for the race. The foundation raises funds for families in the neonatal intensive care unit so they can afford the parking and public transit necessary to spend more time in the hospital with their critically ill infant. It’s an incredibly noble and generous initiative that provides real, direct and tangible help to those enduring incredibly painful situations.

For more information on the charity or to donate, please visit www.jacksonchance.org.

Church of Sunday Long Run

“I thought everyone’s parents ran.  I thought everyone got up and went to … the Church of Sunday Long Run.  That’s what my dad would call it.” ~ Shalane Flanagan, April 13, 2014, 60 Minutes interview

Not everyone was born to talented long-distance runners, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise when Shalane learned that her weekly family tradition was unique, or even bizarre.  But when she said this during an interview with Anderson Cooper, it made me laugh and think.

Over the years, the Sunday Long Run has become more than a weekly run, it’s become a ritual.  Three out of four weekends of every month typically feature a run of 13 miles or longer.  It is simply a thing I do now, like going out on a Saturday or watching The League on Wednesdays.  So when she said those words, Church of Sunday Long Run, I realized with some consternation that perhaps I did belong to a religion (though outsiders may call it a cult).

Or as my wife so eloquently said, "Look at this dweeb."

Or as my wife so eloquently said, “Look at this dweeb.”

But every church or religion has to have its high holiday.  And that for me, without a doubt, is the second Sunday of October, when the city hosts the unrivaled Chicago Marathon.  That wonderful day is like Christmas to me, a magical time of year when extended family descends on Chicago for a weekend of big meals, shopping and fond reflection.  The city teems with people from all over the world with flags proudly draped over their shoulders.  Reservations at Italian restaurants are impossible to get, the Magnificent Mile enjoys rising revenues and all around are eager, nervous faces ready to run and get to know the Windy City.

I haven’t run the Chicago Marathon since 2011, but I’ve always been in town for the celebration.  Every year I have a blast seeing the multicultural hordes on the trains, cheering for each runner who puts their name or country on their shirt, and hosting the ceremonial Deep Dish meal after the race is done and the city shines with the glint of swinging medals.   

For the last two years, I have escorted people to my favorite spectator spots in hope of seeing their significant other’s first ever attempt at 26.2 miles.  But this year, I was given no such duty, so I visited the course with Otter to see the elite race play out in four different spots.

We watched the East African lead pack rocket up LaSalle Boulevard around mile 4, gliding past us almost effortlessly.  They ran easily, lightly on their feet.  You could be forgiven for thinking they were barely trying.  They ran alone, with the next cluster of runners a block away.  Tucked in the middle was Kenenisa Bekele, already a legend in the running world, wearing the coveted #1 bib, as defending champion Dennis Kimetto had chosen to run Berlin instead, where he ran a gobsmacking world record.  Around him were the other top stars, Eliud Kipchoge and Sammy Kitwara, accomplished runners in their own right competing for their first World Marathon Major victory.

They continued their blistering pace down Wells Street at mile 11.  Wesley Korir, the 2012 Boston Marathon champion and 5-time Chicago finisher, had dropped from the lead pack but stayed close to the leaders.  His full-time job as a member of Kenya’s parliament had surely taken a toll on his training, but that wasn’t stopping him from running a world-class time.

Mile 2

Mile 2

By the time the elites had reached mile 21.5 in Chinatown, we were down to an aggressive lead pack of three Kenyans.  Kipchoge, Kitwara and 2014 Tokyo Marathon champion Dickson Chumba led the race, having recently dropped Bekele.  The Ethiopian great was not far behind, but at this stage in the race, it was all but guaranteed that he was not going to make the podium despite his impressive track credentials.

We reached our last spectator spot at the base of “Mount Roosevelt,” the only significant hill in the entire race, sadistically located at mile 25.9, just in time to see the winner.  By the time the pace car arrived, there was just one man running behind it –  Eliud Kipchoge, donning a neon yellow singlet, hammering out a celeritous pace, chasing his 2:04:05 PR from last year’s Berlin Marathon.

About twenty minutes behind him was the female leader, Rita Jeptoo, who went on to win her second consecutive Chicago Marathon and fourth straight World Marathon Major.  If she wasn’t already the #1 female marathoner in the world, then there’s no doubt about it now.  Just a few minutes behind her was top American Amy  Hastings, who equaled her personal best of 2:27.  I would have followed the female elites more closely but it would have prevented us from seeing the male competition at every spot.

By finishing in 2:04:11, Kipchoge ended up missing both the course record and his personal best, but nonetheless gave Chicago a brilliant performance.  Not only was it the third fastest time ever run in Chicago and the Western hemisphere on a record-eligible course, but he did it all smiles.  And why wouldn’t he?  This is the best race in the world.  It has a pancake-flat course, thousands upon thousands of eager spectators, twenty-nine distinct neighborhoods, and an incredibly deep elite field that always put on a real race.  Oh, and the weather has been absolutely perfect for the last three years.  Seriously, I should demand that race director Carey Pinkowski pay me not to run, because it basically guarantees ideal conditions.

I already know that I won’t be running the 2015 Chicago Marathon (you’re welcome, everyone) for the same reasons that I haven’t run it the last three years: there are other states to conquer.  By running Chicago, I am essentially not running a host of other races that could help me reach my goal.  And yes, the lottery system is also a huge bummer, but at least I don’t have to deal with hometown rejection for another couple of years.  As Mike said, the London, Berlin and Tokyo marathons will provide that in spades over the next decade.

But that doesn’t mean that I won’t relish the day when it arrives yet again next October.  I will be there, along with all the other acolytes of the Church of Sunday Long Run, cheering happily with a hint of vicarious envy, for the world’s fastest runners and the 40,000 athletes behind them.

Congratulations to every proud finisher!