Chicago Marathon, from the sidelines

From the "better late than never" department, a report on my trip to watch the Chicago marathon. We spotted this couple, apparently just married, on our way out to dinner the night before the race. One assumes they forewent the more traditional mid-race marriage to avoid any negative impact on their race times.


Every good marathon starts with a pre-race pasta dinner, and you can't do much better than the Italian Village in Chicago.



On race morning, I gathered with my team-mates from the Greater Boston Track Club. These 5 ladies were off to the start to join the rest of our team. I was in the position of trailing spouse, i.e., here to watch the race, with particular focus on my girlfriend, Christy (center, below).



At 7:45, I was joined by fellow trailing spouse and GBTC member John Blouin. We headed off in our running gear to mile 1, just outside the hotel. At 7:45 the streets were virtually empty. Around 8am there was a handful of spectators with us. One person wondered aloud "When will the first guys arrive?" - "In about 4 and a half minutes" I replied, noting to John how much I enjoy being the most knowledgeable person in a crowd, and how easy that is to achieve when watching a marathon.

Four and a half minutes later, a couple of Hansons guys blew past us completely ahead of everyone else. They must have had a 50 meter lead on the main pack of Kenyans. They didn't even fool the camera crews,
who kept back with the larger pack. (We were to learn later that one of these guys was top American runner Brian Sell, who was the designated pace-maker, a.k.a. rabbit, and that the Kenyans just refused to run the pace he had been asked to set.)

Soon there was a mass of humanity filling the streets, and we spotted our team-mate JJ Fialkovitch, followed by all the GBTC ladies. There was so much noise that by the time all our women were past I was already hoarse. Clearly I wasn't pacing myself well at this stage.

A short jog took as to the 5k mark, where we waited for a little while
to see the leaders come by. The Hansons guys had been swallowed by a
phalanx of Kenyans. Deena Kastor was not far back, and soon we spotted JJ, then all the GBTC women: Lynn & Maegan, Katie Famous, Michelle & Katie Fobert, and finally Christy not far back. Everyone looked good. Just 23 miles to go.

A 2 mile run for John and me got us to near the 10 mile mark. We were
there well in advance of the leaders. Someone handed out whistles,
which I was delighted to receive so I could make noise for total
strangers while saving my voice for people I knew. I later learned
that most runners found the whistles annoying. Marathon organizers
take note.

Before too long a huge pack of Kenyans arrived. We whistled. Quite a
distance back was the top American man, Alan Culpepper, in a pack of 3. It seemed awfully early to have let the pack go, but we hoped he was being smart as the Kenyans went out too fast. This hope would prove ill-founded.

Around the one hour mark we spotted stealth GBTC runner Calvin Ma in a
white shirt. We cheered. We also started to notice people from other
Boston area clubs as the crowds thinned out. Paul Hammond and Chris Spinney of Whirlaway, another team from the Boston area, flew by looking good. We also saw runners from Somerville, MVS, and more Whirlaway. We cheered for them all, figuring that they would perhaps develop warm feelings about GBTC as a result. And while they may be our competitors in the New England area, they are our comrades this far from home.

JJ was not far back from Calvin, and I started to worry that perhaps
he was being a bit aggressive in his debut. This worry would prove to
be well-founded.

Lynn and Maegan went past looking good, with Lynn having opened a
little gap. Maegan had her game face on. Hard to tell if she was
unhappy or just focused. Reviewing last night's dinner conversation,
perhaps? Famous was next, followed by Fobert, Michelle and Christy. We
cheered for them all at the top of our voices. Everyone looked good,
and still smiling. I was starting to sound like a chain smoker.

John and I hopped on the Elevated railway ("The El"). There was a
great view down to the race below. A short ride south, as we reviewed
our course map and compared it with the El map - we felt like we were
in an urban orienteering event. We hopped off the El South of
downtown, and ran West to get to the 17 mile mark. This time we were
too late to see the leaders go by, and from here on we'd have no clue
about the elite race. Who cares? We were here for our team-mates.

We positioned ourselves on one of the few rises on the course, where
the road crosses a highway. Think of the Mass Pike crossing near the
end of Boston. This was only mile 17, but it proved to be a good test
of the quads for anyone who had gone out too fast. Chris Spinney went
past looking good, whereas Paul Hammond looked like he was doing a
strange sort of dance to make it up the 3 meter climb. Runners could
now clearly be sorted into those in trouble and those not. Calvin did
not appear to be in trouble. JJ did. We yelled at him to keep moving.
Maegan was next, having now passed Lynn. But both looked strong.
Fobert surprised us by being next, having moved ahead of Famous and
Michelle. I began to worry that she was taking a gamble. This worry
would prove ill-founded.

John jumped in to run with Michelle. I stayed to cheer for Christy.
She wasn't far back, and was looking good. I yelled encouragement,
sounding more and more like Tom Waits.

From here it was necessary to run hard to get to the 20 mile mark
ahead of our runners. I just made it there in time to see Maegan go
past. Her expression hadn't changed in 10 miles. Lynn was a little
further back. Katie Fobert was next, powering through the field. I
found John again waiting for Michelle, and this time he jumped in to
run with her to the finish. She was still smiling. I didn't see
Famous, and began to worry that there might be one unhappy member of
our party that night. That worry would prove to be ill-founded.
Without John to help me it was harder to spot our runners. Red is a
very popular racing color. But I spotted Christy, who was now looking
very strong, as she reached the point at which Tom had told her to
start racing: 20 miles. She was passing people like they were standing
still. I jogged alongside her briefly and then headed over to mile 21.
I was there just ahead of her, yelled a few words of encouragement,
and then ran over to mile 25. On my way I found a firestation where I
was finally able to make the pitstop I had needed, but been too busy
to take, for the last 90 minutes. I think I will send a donation to
that firestation - I will be forever in debt to the fireman who let me
use the restroom.

I rejoined the course near the 40k mark, which is about 2,000 meters
from the finish. I was just in time to see Maegan go past, with pretty
much the same facial expression she had had all day, but more serious.
I cheered. She didn't flex a facial muscle. All energy was going into
locomotion.

At this point I saw no need to save what was left of my vocal chords.
I started cheering for everyone. I saw a man with the Australian flag
on his shirt. I yelled "Aussie Aussie Aussie" and he replied with "Oy
Oy Oy", proving that he was still in good shape (actually, it proved
that he was Australian and had a pulse.) I cheered for everyone who
was walking, trying to urge them to run (as I wished someone had done
for me when I was walking near the end of my one Boston marathon
attempt.) I cheered loudest for every GBTC runner, of course. I now
sounded like I had gargled with sand. I was pleasantly surprised to
see JJ still running, albeit looking less than his normal cheery self.
Lynn went by looking tough but tired. I saw Katie Fobert powering
past. She too was wasting no energy on facial movement, but obviously
having the run of her life. I saw Michelle and John go past. Michelle
looked happy, apparently ignoring pain as a massive PR loomed, and no
doubt she was enjoying some quiet time alone with John for the first
time this weekend. I spotted Katie Famous - a huge relief, since I had
missed her at 20 miles. She managed a smile in response to my gravelly
cheer.

Finally, I saw Christy continuing her march through the parade of
tiring runners, as she headed toward the most negatively split race of
any GBTC runner. Having confided on Saturday that a 3:20 would make
her happy, she was so far ahead of that pace I had given up
calculating. I jogged along side her, wondering if we could be as cute
as John and Michelle. "Would you like me to run with you, or should I
bugger off?" I asked, employing some Australian vernacular. "Bugger
Off" she said, leaving nothing to be misinterpreted. I set myself up
for that, I thought.

At this point I had no chance to get to see the finish, and I realized
that the 2 pieces of bread I had eaten at 5:30am were no longer enough
to keep me going, so I made my way back to the El train to get to the
hotel. As I waited for the train, a message arrived on my cell phone
(the last in a long series of messages that I had received all day).
It said "Christy Bonstelle: Finish Time 3:14:56 (unofficial)". (That
was her clock time - her chip time would ultimately be 3:14:27.) Not a bad result, I thought.


Christy at the 20 mile mark. She will beat that guy in front of her by a lot.