Chicago Marathon 2007

Chicago was a very surreal experience. A beautiful city full of history, architecture and energy, unfortunately it wasn’t the best of days.

I’ve been coaching Marathons for Team In Training for 6 years, and Race morning, as I always do, I got my people to the race, in their corrals, and then took off before the race starts to meet my participants usually around mile 3. They really don’t need me anymore and don’t need much encouragement until about mile 16-22, but this being my first trip to Chicago and first time at the hallowed Chicago Marathon, I opted to run the course and run with as many of my participants as I could. I didn’t want to miss anything. The weather was forecasted to be the hottest on record for that date and for the Chicago Marathon.

I was hanging out by the first water stop at mile 3, when I saw the first participants on my team and hopped into the race to run with them. I ran with them for about 2 miles and the fanfare was great, the atmosphere was warm, and the mood was exciting.  I met up with my next participants about mile 5 and they were frustrated already…  “Where’s the water on this course?” was the first words out of their mouth.  When I asked why they didn’t get any at the first water stop at mile 3, they informed they that the water had run out before they got there. Fortunately, there was a water stop at the next mile (mile 6) where they could rehydrate and hopefully begin to catch up on their already dehydrated, overheated bodies.

The water had run out again.

As soon as people realized that, once again, there was no water available… there was immediate tension in the air. All around us, runners were popping open their cell phones and screaming to their spouses, brothers, anyone who would listen, to meet them ASAP at mile 7 and bring some water! (There were many creative expletives intertwined in these cell phone conversations.) I knew right then, this day was not going to go well.  I ran forwards and backwards on the course trying to find as many of my people as possible to tell them to change their strategy.

At mile 10 I found one of my runners, who was one of the better athletes on the team. He had never walked the entire season of training and he was struggling to keep running. After pushing through another mile running together, he finally had had enough and begrudgingly gave into walking. He was upset with himself and wanted to be alone so I told him that I’d be back in 10-15 minutes to check in on him, and then I ran ahead.

I stopped at mile 15 to begin to watch for my runners again, and I noticed an odd site. Nearly everyone was walking. Then I saw the 4:30 pace runner walking as well as everyone around him. I had never seen this many people walking this early in the race, and it struck me as very odd and out of place. As I was trying to rationalize what I was witnessing, a girl in Ohio State Buckeye garb stopped right beside me to puke her guts out. After a short break I helped her over to the Medic Tent (still dry-heaving) to sit her down. The Medic Tent was full and there was nowhere to sit her down except on the curb in the shade. I went to get her some ice to cool down with but the Medic Tent had run out of ice as well. Right away, however, a store owner ran over a pitcher of ice to her and to the Medic Tent.

I began to notice, that the spectators had begun to realize the severity of what was occurring and were doing their best to help out their fellow man. They were running out of their apartments and stores with Aquifina  and Deer Park Bottles of water, they were hooking up their hoses and spraying it into the streets, they were bringing out bags of ice and cold towels, anything to help. While what the Chicagoans did that day truly helped the situation, some were too late to help. As I continued to run ahead, I stopped time and time again to help people to the Medic Tents with locked up legs, with vomiting, with heat exhaustion and who knows what else. All the while I was keeping my eyes peeled for those purple jerseys from Tennessee who were my participants. I knew they should have been by by now, but hadn’t seen any of them.

I took a break to stand in the shade at mile 19 when I saw the Chicago Police Officers begin to walk onto the race course with both hands raised and begin to tell people to stop running. “Stop running, Stop running, the race has been called. You must walk now, the race is over.” The Chicago PD was polite but firm and adamant about not letting anyone run. The race was over. They had stopped the race. The Chicago Marathon, on its 30^th anniversary, was called off. I had seen firsthand the severity of the situation, but had no idea the weight of the moment until we were told to stop running and proceed to the nearest Medic Tent to board a bus that would take us to the finish line. My problem still remained… where were my people?

I began to back track from mile 19 through every med tent looking for my participants; however, there was no one around.  Soon I was the only living soul on the streets of Chicago. Here I was amidst these tall city buildings, on the race course that supposedly only 20 minutes ago had held 45,000 runners and 1 million spectators, and I was by myself. It was the most eerie feeling I ever had. Finally I saw 2 people walking toward me, and it was a Local News crew from NBC. Walking right up to me they asked, “How disappointed are you in the city of Chicago today?” and then stuck the microphone in my face for my response. I tried to stay positive and remain diplomatic, and soon was on my way to find my people.  On my way I would see a runner here and there who was determined to finish 26.2 miles no matter what. I also saw Chicago PD threatening to take those runners into custody if they didn’t “cease from running immediately!” I couldn’t believe it had come to a cease-running-or-go-to-jail kind of day.

After checking every runner filled Medic Tent from mile 19-15 without seeing any of my people, I assumed that they had hopped a bus and were back at the Team In Training Tent where we were supposed to meet. After another 2 mile walk back to the start line, I continue on to the Team In Training tent to see that only 6 of my 14 runners had checked in. Soon after I received the information that one of my runners (the guy I never found) was in the hospital due to dehydration along with 300+ other race participants on the day. Later I learned the reason they stopped the race was because they had run out of ambulances to take people to the hospitals! However, after a few IV’s of fluid, my participant was out in about 1 hour and doing fine.

My people eventually all trickled in and were okay. They were disappointed about the day, and some felt all their preparation they had done was wasted, while at the same time understood the severity of the situation. As well, we have the confidence of knowing that we raised almost $2.5 million for cancer research that race. We’ve all decided to do another race one soon. This is one for the books, and never to be forgotten  in my coaching and running career.

1 million spectators;  45,000 runners;  1500 Team In Training participants; 14 from Tennessee; enough water on a race course?… priceless.

Cancun Ironman 70.3 2007

When we were pregnant with our child we found that most women loved to share their excruciating pregnancy stories pertaining to the pain, soreness, endurance, body function, etc. and all that comes with the experience. After many of the stories I was truly amazed when they told me they had several children… and looked forward to more! This blew my mind until I decided to compete in another Ironman race after my last excruciating experience. I guess the memories of the pain fade and the feeling of accomplishment prevail, and the lore of another Medal around your neck and Finisher’s T-shirt draws you in again. Hence I did another one. 

 

            I have 5 races I want to complete in my lifetime… and a triathlon in another country was on the list, therefore a trip to Cancun, Mexico was a must. As we faced the rising sun, rising out of the Gulf of Mexico, at 6:36am on a Sunday morning the horn sounded for my male age group (all 375 of us) to take off at the same time in our black swim caps. I had never been in a more chaotic swim start in my life. We were swimming against the waves trying to keep each other’s feet and fists out of our faces while trying to swim straight. And my advice concerning swallowing salt water is… “Don’t.” I learned that my gag-reflex is 100% operational.

After the swimmers began to spread out it wasn’t too bad. I could see the ocean bottom and plant life and water life, which was very cool. I was keeping a dead eye on the furthest buoy because I am notorious for swimming off course and vowed to stay on course this time. As I neared the buoy I saw a swimmer with a white swim cap on, meaning he was an Elite Pro, which started 6 minutes ahead of us.  I immediately felt bad for him, because if he was near me, he must have gone the wrong way or made a wrong turn. After looking at the buoy again I saw another swimmer with a white cap and immediately became suspicious. It was then that I heard a man in a canoe shouting “Negra! Negra!” (Black Cap! Black Cap!) and pointing to his head.  I lifted my goggles to look around and saw him pointing to the buoy I was supposed to have swum to and witnessed all the other swimmers swimming toward the correct buoy. So after fighting the waves back out to the correct buoy and swimming an extra 250 meters more than everyone else in the field, I finally ran up the beach and out of the water. 

After a 500 meter run to the transition area, I hopped on my Bike and took off. I had a goal of averaging 17.5 – 18 mph on my bike, which is pretty good for me. However, Mexico is much flatter than anticipated and I don’t think I had had to climb anything bigger than a molehill. I made it out to the first turn at 22 miles in exactly One hour, therefore averaging 22 mph! I couldn’t believe it and I still felt great. There wasn’t much to look at, because we were riding a flat road with no turns through the Mexican Jungle. Later I met up with a cyclist from Houston and we rode together for almost the rest of the trip. Off in the distance you could see the black rain clouds coming and it was fun to try to out run them, but it only rained twice while on the cycle trip, and neither of them lasted more than 15 min. The rain felt really good and cooled things off.

After an enjoyable bike ride I wasted no time in transition and shot out onto run. The problem, however, was my running shoes had been sitting out in the rain and had gotten really waterlogged. I felt like I was wearing lead weights on my feet. With each step water squished out and I could feel the shoes begin to lighten up. But, heavy shoes change your stride and I felt a piercing pain right in my hip that stopped me in my tracks. I stretched it out and started to run again and made it about 10 steps before it pierced me again. After stretching again I made myself run with perfect form and posture like I tell my marathon runners to do everyday, and the pain never bothered me again.

 

On the two-loop course I got to see Christie many times and she had many encouraging words for me as well as every runner that passed by. There was no one that passed her by that didn’t get a handclap or encouraging word, and that inspired me to do the same out on the run course. Each person I passed I made a point of asking how he or she were doing and telling them how good they looked. This made for an enjoyable and quick Half marathon. I made young Mexican children run after me by hollering “arriba arriba! Vamanos!” They would bring me pretzels and water each time and huge toothy grins.  I made the mistake of stopping to walk through an aide station at the 10^th mile, because stopping to walk felt soooo good. It was hard to get running again, until I saw a Mexican man on his first loop of the course that was running with 1 leg and a prosthetic. Immediately I knew how lucky I was to be healthy, able bodied, married to an encouraging wife and totally in the moment.

I took off toward the finish line.