Morning Of
I had a decent night’s sleep and woke up about four hours before the race. For breakfast, I had a croissant with jelly, some yogurt, and a kiwi.
The day before, I had already laid out everything I needed—something I always do to avoid any last-minute stress or time crunch before heading to the race.
I generally wind down about four hours before bedtime, and I find those four hours are what I need to eat a meal and prep my gear for the next day.
I guess you could call it the 4-Hour Rule.
Also essential: making sure to poop and shower before leaving for the race.
Getting to the Start
I was in Wave 1, with a start time of 7:30 a.m.
The train ride took about 20 minutes total—five minutes walking to the station, then five minutes from the stop to the race entrance. The train was packed with other runners, which reassured me I was heading the right way.
The entrance was more crowded and slower-moving than I expected. I suspect some runners from later waves arrived early. It took around 20 minutes to get through security.
I also realized I was missing a safety pin for my bib, but luckily someone was handing out extras and I snagged one.
At the Start
I had to relieve myself a couple of times—admittedly, the first time was in some bushes, because the porta-potty lines were so long.
Thankfully, there were additional porta-potties inside the corrals.
On the way to the corral, I bumped into Nate, a fellow PPTC member, and we exchanged quick hellos.
While waiting, I sipped on an electrolyte mix, did some light warmups (leg and arm swings), and took a Maurten gel about 10 minutes before the start.
My corral started at 7:35, and I crossed the line around 7:38.
My goal? A 3:10 marathon—to beat the newly adjusted BQ time of 3:14:30 by a safe margin, in case it dropped again. That meant maintaining a 7:15/mile pace—somewhat ambitious.
My usual race strategy is to stick with the pace of those around me, occasionally speeding up to find a good “anchor”—ideally, two runners side-by-side I can draft behind for some extra pull.
Miles 1–5
The start was crowded, and I was about 15 seconds off pace initially. That was fine—I prefer not to go out too fast. Having people in front actually helps hold me back.
But I also didn’t want to waste energy by constantly slowing down, weaving laterally, or reaccelerating.
By miles 2 and 3, I clocked in at 6:36 and 6:43—surprisingly fast, though I didn’t feel like I was pushing it. That helped average out my slow start. Looking back, I wonder if the GPS was thrown off by the city’s tall buildings. But GPS usually errs by minutes, not seconds, so maybe I really was moving that fast.
By mile 4, I had evened out, holding between 7:00 and 7:20. If I could keep that pace, I’d cruise into a 3:10 finish.
Hydration and Fuel
I stopped at every aid station, alternating between water and Gatorade—something I started doing in Amsterdam. In past marathons, I’d hydrate at every other station and avoid the on-course electrolyte drinks.
(One reason I changed this in Amsterdam: their electrolyte drink seemed more natural. U.S. Gatorade has high fructose corn syrup and other unnecessary additives. The Gatorade Endurance Formula used in Chicago seemed cleaner than the bottled version.)
For fuel, I planned to take Maurten gels every 35–40 minutes, with a caffeinated one around mile 20.
Miles 6–10
You often end up running alongside someone consistently in a race, and here I ran close to a woman from NBR (North Brooklyn Runners). I gave her a shout-out—some see us as friendly rival Brooklyn clubs.
I had my second Maurten gel before the next water station so I could rinse it down easily.
As usual, I slowed to a walk at the water stops to drink. Around mile 6, I started to feel tightness in my left hamstring. Flashbacks to the Amsterdam Marathon came rushing in—I had a hamstring pull in the final 100 meters there.
Between miles 6–9, I adjusted my gait to ease pressure on the leg. I even stopped twice to massage it briefly.
By mile 10, the pain worsened. I stopped after the water station, stepped onto the sidewalk, and thought I was done. I paused my watch and considered walking to the nearest medical station.
But instead, I gave it one last effort—deep massaging, leg swings, and a mental reset.
After 2–3 minutes, I started jogging again. To my surprise—the tightness was gone.
Getting Back on Course
As each mile passed, I grew more confident the injury wouldn’t return. I was back at a 7:00–7:10 pace.
Still, I assumed I lost around 4 minutes during that stop and wasn’t sure I’d reach my 3:10 goal.
Since I paused my watch, I had no idea of my real time. I figured I was on pace for something closer to 3:14–3:15—barely under the updated BQ time, and likely not enough if they lowered it again.
Miles 10–20: New Goal
My new target was simple: catch up to the runners I’d been pacing with in the first 9 miles.
These 10 miles were a blur. I was zoned in, barely aware of the crowds, though I heard my name a couple of times—from my wife and fellow PPTC runner Jana.
Normally, I’d high-five them, but I was too focused to break stride or weave toward the sideline.
I stuck with my fueling: a Maurten gel every 35–40 minutes, alternating Gatorade and water at each aid station.
One change: I stopped walking through aid stations. I wondered if slowing down earlier had contributed to the hamstring issue.
Last 10K
At mile 20—I did it. I caught up to the NBR runner!
Still, I was sure my BQ chances were shot. I’d lost ~4 minutes and was slowing. My pace slipped to 7:10–7:39 per mile.
Even though I felt my BQ was out of reach, I pushed on, sticking to my strategy and giving it everything I had.
Unlike Amsterdam, where I went out slower and negative split the final miles, I had paced more evenly this time. But the hamstring stop was a wild card.
The course also changed in character: fewer crowds, more sharp turns, and small bridges over the canals. These slight inclines, though minor, felt significant by this point.
The Finish
From miles 20 to 25, I slowed by about 15 seconds per mile. But in the final mile, I dug deep and hit a 7:00 pace again.
Interestingly, my total distance clocked in at 26.72 miles—about 800 meters longer than the official marathon distance (common due to tangents and GPS drift).
Finish Line Emotions
Crossing the finish, I felt strong and relieved. I picked up my medal, took a photo, and let a volunteer wrap me in a heat sheet.
My watch said 3:10:56, but I knew that wasn’t right—I had paused it during my stop. Strava showed a moving time of 3:10:56 and elapsed time of 3:12:26.
People started commenting on my Strava, congratulating me—but I didn’t feel deserving. I added a note explaining that the time couldn’t be accurate and that I likely lost 4+ minutes.
Then came the reunion.
Reunion & The Moment of Truth
At the reunion area, my wife told me:
The official Chicago Marathon app listed my finish time as 3:12:24!
I was stunned. I had convinced myself I’d lost too much time. The emotions hit hard—disbelief, excitement, relief.
I quickly updated my Strava to reflect the official result.
But… was 3:12:24 enough? My BQ standard was 3:14:30—but would they lower it again?
Just like Amsterdam, I’d have to wait 11 more months to find out.
Post-Race & Celebration
At the reunion area, I snacked on goody bag items and redeemed my free beer—gladly.
I texted my running group where I was. Eventually, I met up with some non-PPTC friends at a nearby restaurant, then headed to a sports bar where PPTC runners were gathering.
I hung out in a booth with club members, sharing stories, drinks, and recovery tips.
The Day After
The next day, I proudly had my medal engraved with my official time. A local Under Armour store was doing it for free. The line was long but totally worth the wait.
Looking back, Chicago took me through a full spectrum of emotions—from hope to despair, and back to triumph.
It proved Amsterdam wasn’t a fluke. I had more in me. I didn't let myself down.
With my marathon adventure behind me, we checked out of the hotel and began the second leg of our trip: a relaxing vacation to Milwaukee, Mackinac Island, and a drive around Lake Michigan.
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