As a latecomer to running and racing, one of my goals is to complete the six Abbot World Majors (Boston, New York, Chicago, London, Berlin and Tokyo) over the next several years. I ran my first major in 2019 when I had my first Boston Marathon experience. This year, I used one of my faster times to get guaranteed entry into the Chicago Marathon. Since I missed my second Boston last year due to the pandemic, I’d been hoping to run it again in 2021. However, the Boston Marathon was rescheduled from April to October 11, the day after Chicago. So … Chicago it is.

I came into the race a bit burned out from racing. I ran full marathons in January, February, May, June, July and August. My best time was 3:11:36, which I earned at the Revel Wasatch Limited Edition Marathon on May 1. I also ran the St. George Mini-Marathon (13.1) the weekend before Chicago, though I tried to take it easy. Anyway, I knew coming into this one that I didn’t need to kill it. My fallback goal was to come in under 3:25:00, which is my Boston qualifying time. My stretch goal was 3:20:00, which I thought was possible. (That is, until the weather decided to turn warm.)

Getting to Chicago

Flying to Chicago was tricky. We ended up getting a red-eye flight out of Las Vegas. Unfortunately, the flight was very short (just three and a half hours) and I didn’t managed to get any sleep on the flight. So when we landed in the Windy City, I was groggy and exhausted. I still managed to get a few photos under the Welcome Runners sign in the O’Hare Airport terminal. There were Chicago Marathon signs everywhere! Almost stumbling with fatigue, though, we found our way to the train station and headed for our AirBNB in Logan Square.

We couldn’t actually check in until the afternoon, but we’d pre-arranged to leave our luggage at the apartment. After lightening our load, we grabbed some breakfast and then headed to the expo at McCormick Place.

My only other large marathon had been Boston 2019, pre-COVID, and that expo was amazing. This one was very different. First of all, we had to wait in a long line to have our vaccination paperwork checked and get wristbands attesting to our “clean” status. When we actually made it into the expo hall, what we saw was barely four rows of scaled-down booths and displays. I mean, I get it—the pandemic was still going on (at least, in theory). But the vendor presence was disappointing.

I collected my bib and swag bag and then walked up and down, collecting a few freebies along the way. There was very little Chicago Marathon merchandise because (as we found out later) much of it was still on container ships waiting to be unloaded. It wasn’t long before we’d seen everything we wanted to see. At that point I headed back out to Logan Square to get a nap.

I probably slept two and a half hours. Once the others got back from sightseeing, we ran out and grabbed some Chicago-style deep dish pizza and ate it in the apartment. I did my prep work, watched a little TV, and then turned in early.

Marathon Morning

Surprise, surprise—I actually slept really well the night before the race. I was up at 5:00 and out the door by 5:15, walking through the dark streets of Chicago toward the L station. At that time on a Sunday morning, every person on the platform was wearing a Chicago Marathon bib. Everybody was masked. I tried to doze on the 15-minute ride downtown, but of course I was too wired to do that.

While on the train, I went ahead and pinned on my race bib. This was something of a disappointment. As usual, I had printed myself a shirt specifically for this race. For the slogan, I chose the catchphrase one of my favorite YouTubers, Ryan George, uses in his “Pitch Meeting” videos on the Screen Rant channel: “SUPER EASY, BARELY AN INCONVENIENCE.” Unfortunately, there was no way to wear my bib without covering up at least part of the slogan. So I ran the whole race with just “SUPER EASY” visible. Not a huge deal, but a little disappointing.

(In retrospect, I probably should’ve just pinned my bib to the front of my kilt. I’ll try to remember that next time.)

Walking toward Grant park, I noticed a woman wearing a “Pain You Enjoy” shirt from the Utah Valley Marathon. We chatted for a while until we had to head to different gates. I was Gate 4 and she was Gate 5. After passing through security and wristband check (to make sure I wasn’t some plague-ridden scoundrel), I noticed a line of port-a-potties just inside the perimeter fence. Nobody was waiting in line … they were almost all empty. I took care of my pre-race business, then wandered around for a bit. I found Buckingham Fountain (a.k.a. the “Married with Children Fountain”) and took a selfie. Then I filled up my water bottles and talked to a couple of people. Most folks, though, were in the zone. Most of them had tossed their masks.

I stretched a bit, jogged up and down a little and visited a bag check the size of a supermarket. Then I headed to my starting corral.

Chicago Marathon Starting Line

The moment I entered the corral, a guy walked up to me and said, “Dude, what’s with the kilt?” It’s funny, because that’s almost exactly what happened to me in the corral at Boston in 2019. This guy was a native Chicagoan, and he’d attended college at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland. “I have the right to wear the Aberdeen tartan,” he told me, “but I never have.” He was a pretty cool guy, and we chatted for quite a while. He told me about living in Chicago, about how terrible it during last year’s riots, about the continuing pandemic precautions. Before I knew it, the corral was filling up and they were making the pre-race announcements.

Somebody sang the national anthem. She started way too high, and had to modulate down halfway through, which made me giggle. A random stranger next to me said, “I know, right?”

I wished the Aberdeen alum good luck, and he did the same. Fiddled with my watch and earbuds. Queued up my playlist. Made sure my laces were knotted good and tight. Asked myself, “Why the hell am I doing this, again?”

Then the gun went off and the corrals started advancing. At 7:35 a.m., I crossed the starting line.

Chicago Marathon—the First Half

Historically, average temperatures for Chicago on October 10 are 66 for the high and 49 for the low. This year, in contrast, it was already in the mid-70s at the starting line, and the day just got warmer from there. Humidity was high (especially for those of us accustomed to high desert running). All in all, it was a warm, wet race.

We started off on Columbus Drive, in the northern part of Grant Park. After crossing the timing mats, the game was on. I stayed in the back of my corral, assuming (correctly) that lots of people would go out way too fast. (I still ended up running the first mile at 6:54.) The race organizers paint a blue line on the course; if you follow it religiously, you end up “running the tangents.” So that’s how I started out. The line swerved to the left and right, depending on which direction the course was turning next. After a while I kind of gave up on this strategy. It just required too much work to weave back and forth around the other runners.

Eventually I settled in and enjoyed the scenery while trying to keep an eye on my pacing. This was tough. My watch relies on GPS to tell me how fast I’m running, and the tall buildings downtown made GPS unreliable. It kept fluctuating between 10:25/mile and 5:40/mile, and I knew that couldn’t be accurate. If you look at my GPS path on Strava, you can see why. The skyscrapers just got in the way. Luckily, once we cleared the first several miles and headed north of the Loop, my watch started behaving much better.

My main impression from the first half of the Chicago Marathon is of people, people, PEOPLE. There were so many of them—on every corner, lining the sidewalks the whole way. The other impression was of food. The course goes through all of the different ethnic neighborhoods in Chicago, and in each one we smelled whatever they were cooking: pizza in Little Italy, gyros in Greektown, fajitas in the Little Village. I choked down Clif gels every four miles or so while running through some amazing aromas.

Here are a few highlights from the first half:

• The bagpipe band in Lincoln Park. I could hear them a quarter-mile away, so I maneuvered to that side of the road. Got a nice cheer from the pipers when they saw I was running in a kilt.
• The drag queens blowing kisses from a flatbed trailer in Boystown. They were prancing around and putting on quite a show. One of them had a beard.
• All the people yelling “Super Easy.” The Chicago crowd wasn’t quite as supportive as the one in Boston, but overall they were generous with their encouragement and applause.

Just before the halfway mark, the clouds that had been obscuring the sun suddenly burned off and the day got much hotter. If it wasn’t 80 degrees already, it was close. I struggled to maintain my pace, and the race became a chore. This isn’t unusual—sooner or later, every race gets hard—but the oh-god-this-really-sucks slog came much earlier than usual.

Chicago Marathon—the Second Half

If you believe the GPS record, mile 17 was my fastest mile of the race, clocking in at 6:42. Not sure how accurate that is, though. The heat was oppressive, but I kept going.

The rest of the race was just hard. The sun was out, the tall buildings were miles away, and the crowds were mostly thinner. I alternated between scanning the crowds (looking for anything interesting to see), keeping tabs on my waning pace on my watch, and watching the other runners. If the blue line was there, I never even noticed. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Around mile 21, Cermak Road crosses the Chicago River for the last time. The race people had taped down red carpet to make it easier to run on the metal-grate roadway. As I powered up the bridge, another runner sprawled on her face about 10 yards ahead of me. Just as I reached where she’d tripped, I stumbled and nearly fell, myself. There was a lump of pavement or something hidden under the carpet, just high enough to catch your foot on. I wonder how many other runners fell at the same spot that morning. Luckily, she was back on her feet by the time I caught up to her. (She said she was okay.)

Right after the bridge, I passed a couple of spectators wearing kilts. They whooped it up for me and I threw them a shaka as I passed by.

The entrance to Chinatown marks four miles to go. I took off my hat and took in the sights and smells as a fresh breeze drafted between the buildings. Also, I tried kicking up my pace a little, and managed 7:56 for another mile or so. But my second wind lasted about as long as the breeze did. Miles 23, 24, and 25 were all super slow—averaging in the 8:20s—and I was feeling overheated and spent.

Chicago Marathon Finish Line

At mile 24 or so, I saw a guy in a stormtrooper costume holding a sign that said, “MOVE ALONG, MOVE ALONG.” That made me smile, and gave me a little boost.

There’s something about the last mile of any race. Your feet know exactly what it takes to run a mile, and you know you don’t have to save anything for later. So I poured on the steam (almost literally) and started passing people like crazy. I managed a 7:43 in the final mile of the Chicago Marathon, popping out my earbuds so I could hear the cheering crowds as I turned from Michigan Ave. to Roosevelt Rd. and onto the final stretch of Columbus Dr.

My friend Liz always has something to say about my race photos. I’m a “photogenic runner,” she told me recently. “You’re almost always smiling, and you always look so strong.” Well, I didn’t feel particularly strong as I crossed the finish line—way on the far left side of the road—but I certainly was smiling. I’d accomplished my goal of running a Boston-qualifying time at the Chicago Marathon (though just barely), and I’d done it in less-than-ideal conditions. I’d just finished my second World Major race. Also, I could finally stop running and maybe even get something to eat. Sadly, no fajitas or pizza, but even a browning banana tastes great after 26.2 miles.

Official time: 3:24:02, a BQ by 58 seconds.

The Aftermath

I collected my medal and joined the zombie parade. (Quick aside: every time I get a race medal, I kind of want a kiss to go along with it. Guess I’m like a mouse and a cookie that way. Growing up in Hawaii conditions you to expect kisses when someone puts something around your neck.) Like all big races, the recovery lane was super long. Like, half a mile long. I downed an entire bottle of water, then an entire bottle of Gatorade. Then another bottle of water. I’d been diligent about hydrating along the course, but my body wanted more and more.

I ate the banana and a granola bar, and got my picture taken. I drank some chocolate milk. Eventually I made it out of the chute and found myself at the Buckingham Fountain again. I took some photos for a group of 20-year-olds, and they took a photo for me.

Eventually I found the gear check, but it turned out to be for a Wave 2 runners. (I was in Wave 1). I had to walk another quarter mile to get my bag. Then I took the train back to the AirBNB to take a shower. The subway cars were all packed, but one gracious rider took pity on me and gave me his seat. I got lots of congratulations and nice-jobs. I saw a few other runners and we compared our race experiences.

Once I was clean and fresh, I headed back downtown to this cool Middle-Eastern fast food place. I had to force myself to eat—my body was starved for calories, but chewing was such a chore. We spent the rest of the day at the Art Institute, just half a mile from the starting line, where I visited my favorite Seurat painting and saw a bunch of other really cool art. Adding up the race, the museum, all the walking back and forth, I ended the day with over 62,000 steps.

Photo Gallery

I mentioned earlier that my friend Liz has accused me of being a “photogenic runner.” I don’t know about that, but I was pretty pleased with the Chicago Marathon photos I got from MarathonFoto. Not all of the pictures in this gallery came from them, but most of the better ones did. It’s great to have photos that make it look like I wasn’t struggling, even though the second half of the race was pretty tough.