September 11, 2011 4 A.M. - wake up and eat right away. On the menu this morning, peanut butter on toast with lots of water. The night before I prepared my race bag with snacks, water, clothes, and extra shoes, so the only thing I have to do this morning is get ready to run. The weather report says it's 65 degrees, but it feels warmer as I step outside in the moments before dawn. One 20 minute train ride later and I'm at the race site in Jackson Park on Chicago's south side. It's a little less than an hour before start time and the area is swarming with runners and spectators. As I wait in my start corral, I think I might have a PR in me somewhere. That thought gives way to doubt within a few minutes after crossing the starting line. My legs are stiff and my entire body feels heavy, but I've already started this and I'm going to do the best I can.
The first three miles wind around the park area before turning onto Lake Shore Drive where the course widens and the scenery improves with views of Lake Michigan and the Chicago skyline. The width of Lake Shore Drive allows the field of runners to spread out making it easier to pass and make up time lost within the crowds during the first few miles. My pace improves by 20-30 seconds per mile, and I start believing again that I might just be able to PR this thing. The sun is up, warming the air, but I still feel good with the view and entertainment along the course. There are a couple of bands playing, music blaring through speakers atop bridges overlooking the course, and signs made by spectators encouraging runners to keep going. Two of my favorite signs were one that said, "One day you will not be able to do this. Today is not that day," and another that read, "You have great stamina. Call me at ...." I didn't quite get that phone number.
I stick to my usual routine and wait till after mile 6 to take a drink and eat some GU. Those legs that felt stiff at the beginning are starting to ache as I make it to the turnaround near mile 8. It's not pain really. More like an irritant. Not anything I can't push through, or so I believe. The turnaround flips us directly into the sun, and it's hot! Race volunteers announce over speakers that condition levels have changed from green to yellow which means that things are slightly worse than ideal and that runners should take plenty of opportunities to drink. It gets harder and harder to maintain my pace, so I go with whatever speed I think I can finish with. Staring into the sun, my perception of the next few miles becomes hazy as all I can recall as I write this is me just trying to keep running. I'm encouraged by a sign stating 1 mile remaining, and because I passed someone who flew by me almost an hour ago. My legs are kicking as best they can, but my Garmin just hit 13.1 miles and I'm still running. Where the ---- is the finish line?!
A gentle turn and the end is within sight. I put my head down and sprint with everything I have left. My breath quickens. I maneuver between and around those ahead of me. This hurts. Really hurts. I cross the finish line and I just want to get past the bottleneck of people before I puke from an increased oxygen demand. 13.24 miles in 2:11:08 (according to my Garmin). No PR here and not anywhere close to finishing in 2 hours. Despite my disappointment (and incredible soreness), I'm happy I made it through my first half marathon in over a year. There are going to be days when you don't feel your best, but you run regardless. Training and actually running a race is different. It's good to get a feel for the road surrounded by people, with the adrenaline pumping, and struggling to finish better than before. I didn't stick around to get my free pizza and beer, but I walked away with a shiny medal telling me what I already knew -- telling me all I needed to know. I made it across the finish line. I did it.
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