Chicago Marathon Recap.

Mile 1: Columbus Drive. Very very crowded. Can’t really move, have to navigate constantly. Someone yells: “Ruthie! Ruthie! Ruthie!” and I remember, oh yeah, I’m Ruth, not ruthie. Sigh.
Everyone bunched onto overpasses and yelled a bunch.

Mile 2: State Street. Ran past House of Blues. Go over first Bridge with funny structure and purple carpet over the top. Kate recalls that she seemed to pick the wrong side of the bridge (without the carpet) every time, and it reminds me of Coconut Mall on Wii Mariokart.

Mile 3: Up La Salle Street. Still crowded, and now no air flow. Sweating ensues.

Mile 4 & 5: Past Lakeside into some park. After instructing a group of twenty-something walkers (young walkers! Mile 4? Suckers) to walk in line because they are creating a road block, we move into a green space where a male runner starts panting and yelling “LET’S GET PHYSICAL…PHYSICAL…I WANT TO GET PHYSICAL…PHYSICAL…LET’S GET INTO PHYSICAL…LET ME HERE YOUR BODY TALK…BODY TALK…LET ME HERE YOUR BODY TALK…”

Mile 6: Run past Belmont hoping to see Kaye…but oh no. She’s at the police station. Her car got hit and run on Saturday night and when she got up early to see the runners before her choir gig at church, she got quite a surprise.

Mile 7: Turning it around. I think this is where I see the 4:30 pace group. Also where the crowds get thick and cheery. Nice! Still very hard to get through the runners though.

Mile 8: Boystown. Hoo whoo! We see the LGBT marching band and the dancing group of men dressed up as soldiers with fake rifles. Woot woot.

Mile 9: At this point a fifteen year old in a cotton t shirt darts in front of me and I silently curse him and his youth.

Mile 10: Onto north Avenue. We see an Elvis impersonator who is not actually singing, but more like yelling out peoples names (runners write their names on tape and put them on their shirt so strangers can cheer for them in a personal manner). “Hey Sharon! Looking great!”

Mile 11: Back down on Wells street, through Old Town. Lots of people again.

Mile 12: Back through downtown. People are hanging out all over the bridge, and we head down to Adams Street. Crowds and crowds of people.

Mile 13: 13.1! Halfway! People keep chanting that we are half way there. Hey, um, shut up. That means the glass is half empty, fools.

Mile 14-16: This is where it starts to get fuzzy. Officially we are running around Jackson Blvd. Officially, it is now a RED LEVEL of running conditions, not a YELLOW LEVEL. So please SLOW DOWN. DRINK WATER. SLOW DOWN. At one point the crowds are so sparse all we can hear is the slapping of sneaker soles on the pavement. Ah. Nature. But not really. Also, the marathon unleashes the official cooling stations: men with trucks and water hoses.

Mile 18: Powergel! Finally, something besides the cups of Gatoraid and water I’ve been consuming at every single mile. I consume One vanilla gel, swerve over and grab another gel (latte flavored) and squirt em down. Uck. Tastes weird. But worth it.

Mile 18: Oh. The wall, hello wall. I’ve heard so much about you. And now you’re here. I finally. At this point I actually begin to talk to myself. Out loud: This sucks. This SUCKS. This will get better. This will get BETTER.

We run under another bridge and I see a navy jumpsuit clad runner dressed as Elvis. Um. I hope that he jumped in and is jumping out. Yikes. Too hot.

Mile 19: This is where Ruth actually walks for the first time. After trying to slow down into a trot, my body revolts and instead does a weird robotish movement where all of my joints seem to be hinting out of the sides of their mouths: oil can.

Mile 20: Knowing that my mom, sister in law, great aunt, and husband are waiting at mile 21, my mind wanders. But just far enough to enjoy the Puerto Rican neighborhood where people are spraying down runners with their garden hoses, pumping tunes out of their home stereos, and cheering on the streets. Very lovely. Oh, and right before mile 21, the pace group for 4:30 passes me. I cry.

Mile 21: The American Bank crowd is coming up in the distance! I see bleachers and smell the food of China town. But…where are the family members? I resign to having to go on without some encouragement and then I hear someone screaming my name. I stop and turn around in time to see Jess waving frantically, and motion to Tim to come over. I give him a big kiss and spread all my salty face grossness to his and he politely refrains from pointing it out. I look at him and say “I’m. So. Tired.” And turn and run away.

Mile 22: Oh, hello wall. Here I start walking all the water stops. I’m tired. My legs feel like they’re bairly even moving, but at least I’m passing 50% of the runners around me who have completely stopped running. Also, from here on out I run with a guy in a giant leprechaun hat.

Mile 23: We finally stop running south! Which is good, because we had been running on a highway-like street for quite some time and I had started repeating out loud “I just want to go home.” We finally finally turn East and head over the Dan Ryan.

Mile 24: Oh god. Two more miles. Two more miles. We run past sparsely crowded residential/school neighborhoods. Police officers have opened up fire hydrants and cheer and clap. Yayyyyy. Irish guy is still running near me and a lady yells “The leprechaun! The leprechaun! Let’s hear it for the leprechaun!”

Mile 25: Okay. Back in downtown. It’s close. It’s so close. People have now started leaving the crowds to walk or jog along the people they are cheering for. Nice, yes, but also, crowding up the roads. People are handing out beer on the streets. Only one more mile! My legs push a bit harder.

Mile 26: I am trying again. When we finally see the finish line after coming around a sharp turn, I gasp “ohmygod” and run for it. I stop running as soon as I hit the finish line and gladly take the icy cool towels, water, and banana. And I met up with Dave (2:50:41), Aaron (3:43:37), and Kate (4:09:20) at the Art Institute, along with all the family that came down to see us as well.

It was a long, long morning, and although I didn't have either of the most common reactions to a first marathon (I'm never doing that again/I can't wait to do that again), I have to admit I'm looking forward to the next time I get a chance to run another race. Possibly a 10k. But maybe another big one next autumn. My time was 4:31:44, and I told Kate I was expecting a five hour run, but would be ecstatic if I finished under 4:30. So now I've set the benchmark. As long as it doesn't hit 85 degrees and I train a bit more, I'm sure I can hit it.

But I'm also kinda looking forward to doing yoga in my steam heated apartment this winter instead of slipping over icy sidewalks and trying to blow my nose while running. In summation, I have a love/hate relationship with running. It lets me eat, has really strengthened my legs, but is also time consuming (icing, stretching, running, stretching is a 2 hour process). Now I'll have evenings free to work on music with Tim.

Gawd I'm torn.