the last mile

The 2011 Chicago Marathon official time:  4:57:32


It's been a little bit more than 72 hours since i've crossed the finish line in my second marathon, but it only seems like minutes ago.  The freshness of the day is still vivid in my memory, the pain in my legs and back lingers, the cheers and smiles of the spectators continue to move past my eyes, the overwhelming emotions are right under the surface.  It's as if i'm running the race continually in my head, over and over again.  I hope that it never goes away; it was that good.

The Windy City was in the middle of a mild fall weekend with temperatures in the upper 60's and abundant sunshine, which is perfect for enjoying all that Chicago has to offer but on the warm end in terms of running 26.2 miles.  Having watched the weather all week, we'd come to terms with it and had vowed to enjoy what we'd been training for in spite of the less-than-ideal temperature.  And that's exactly what we did.  Arriving at the Palmer House Hilton just steps off Michigan Avenue and Grant Park, we met up with my great friend Blake, who had flown in from California to have fun and cheer us on.  

The four of us set out for dinner and drinks at a local pub, The Exchequer, and then called it an early night, knowing the next two days would be full.  As much as I enjoyed hanging out and sharing a meal with my amazing friends, I felt completely dialed in for the one reason that I was in Chicago.  I was there to run.  Nothing more.  My focus was completely on the marathon and the anticipation I felt was intense.  

Mrs. Murie and Mrs. Pugh sacrificed sleeping in so that we could get to the expo on Saturday morning before the crowds hit.  Bless their hearts, they are both fans of a late start to any event, but knew that 45,000 runners all trying to pick up bibs and swag bags can get pretty hectic pretty quick.  Mrs. Murie has always been a fan of expos, so I think she was ready to jump into the camaraderie that runners share as they gather before a marathon.  The Chicago expo didn't disappoint, as it was full of vendors from across the spectrum:  Nike, Asics, Brooks, Volkswagen, New Balance, The North Face, and tons more.  We had a great time walking through the expanse of running gear.  We talked with reps from the Little Rock Marathon and begged them to show us their medal for next year, but got nowhere.  We even played the hometown card to no avail.  Damnit.  The expo, nonetheless, was great fun.

Saturday night we met Jason and Sarah, my friends who live in Chicago, for a carb load at one of their favorite local Italian places in Bucktown.  Jason has been a life-long friend and I'm so happy that I get to hang out with him as much as I do.  He's a stand-up guy and I'm lucky to call him a friend.  And Sarah is awesome, too.  She's always in the best mood and fun to be around.  As usual, their choice of restaurant was spot-on; Via Carducci was a lively little place with great Italian dishes prepared from scratch. It was so nice to have a good meal the night before the big event.  

Over dinner, Sarah, Jason and Blake planned their spectator routes for the next day, while Mrs. Murie and Mrs. Pugh and I talked about the logistics of marathon running.  We enjoyed every moment of the meal, but my thoughts never strayed too far from the next morning.  It's what I had been working toward since June and I was completely ready for it.  If I could have forwarded time, I would have.  I was ready to run, plain and simple.  

Making it back to the hotel in time to catch the highlights of the Arkansas football game, I laid every thing out that I would need for the marathon.  I got my bib pinned to my shirt, the d-tag connected to my left shoe, and gel packs in my pockets.  I could feel the nerves setting in, but refused to allow them to take over.  There was nothing left to do but turn out the lights and fall asleep.  The next day would be my shining moment.  I knew it.

     

Sunday morning came soon enough, and, in what seemed like a whirlwind, we were out the door and surrounded by thousands of runners descending on downtown Chicago.  The atmosphere was electric.  As the sun rose in the east over Lake Michigan, we said goodbye to Blake as we made our way to the corral and he made his way toward the subway to head out onto the course.  We took one final picture before dropping our bags and starting the wait for the gun.  Unlike last year, I felt nothing but excitement and elation as the time to run approached.  I simply had a feeling, an intuition, that everything was going to be okay and that I was going to have the race of my life.  It was the best feeling in the world.

The next thing I knew the gun had indeed gone off and the Chicago Marathon had begun.  Mrs. Murie immediately jumped out fast, which surprised me.  I had thought that we'd run the first few miles together, for no other reason than to not have to fight the crowds, but she found her pace immediately and went with it.  I would never see her again; she would run her own race, and I would mine.  And that's how it should be.  


Mrs. Pugh and I ran the first three miles together through Streeterville, the Loop, and the Financial District.  It had been quite some time since i'd run with my good friend, my friend that understands me so well.  She didn't realize it at the time, but her presence kept me grounded in those early miles.  Eventually we said our goodbyes as she peeled off for a water/bathroom stop and I pushed forward.  The rest of the marathon for me would be a solo event, but so many people, friends and family, would be in my thoughts the entire way.  Truly.


Those early miles were punctuated with superior, outstanding crowd support.  It was like running through a massive world festival.  All types of peoples had gathered to celebrate not only the sport of running, but life in general.  Mile after mile included throngs of locals and tourists alike, all cheering as much as possible for the runners.  Blake was positioned in mile five, right before Lincoln Park.  As I rounded a corner I saw him jumping and screaming "Puckett" while I passed by.  He was such a trooper throughout the entire race, as I would see him later in Boystown around mile 8, by the United Center in mile 16, and on Michigan Avenue in mile 24.  Long before I arrived in Lincoln Park, he got a great shot of the leaders as they ran furiously.  They would be completely finished before I made it to the half-way mark.  Their athleticism is so impressive.  The eventual winner, Moses Mosop, is wearing a jersey with "Kenya" across the chest.

  

    
As the miles increased, so did my enjoyment.  I felt so incredibly alive, surrounded by 45,000 runners having the time of their lives as well.  We ran through neighborhood after neighborhood of downtown Chicago, full of excitement and energy.  I was completely enthralled in the moment and couldn't have been happier.  Jason and Sarah were right around the mile 14 mark and I saw them from quite a distance away.  Though I had been experiencing emotions throughout the race, this was the first time that I had to keep them in check.  There they were, smiling and cheering, with a jumbo sign that they had made.  I stopped for a quick water break and gave both of them huge hugs, thanking them for coming out, but more importantly thanking them for being such great friends.  I had been anticipating seeing them for miles and it gave me energy to keep pushing forward.  The sign came home with me and is now hanging in my garage, right next to all of my racing bibs.  

Soon thereafter I ran into Blake again.  He was in the perfect spot, because the late-teen miles of the course are probably the least enjoyable in terms of things to see and crowd support.  Please understand, however, that simply means that the crowds aren't five and six deep, but they're still completely there.  I've never seen so many people along a course in my life.  The Chicago Tribune put a conservative estimate around 1.4 million people and I wouldn't doubt it for a single minute.  At any rate, seeing Blake came at the perfect time.  I again stopped quickly for water and, this time, a mini Snickers bar as well.  We talked and laughed and smile and I ran on, only ten miles to go. 
   

The final two really large districts, Pilsen and Chinatown, are a complete and total blur.  I'm fairly certain that I was focused intently on keeping my pace solid and steady.  I know that this is where I began to feel the severity of the event, both in my legs and my cognition.  It's also where I began to dig deep to finish.  I knew that I had the strength to complete the course, and I was hell-bent on doing better than I did last year.  It was, in some ways, as if the real race began with five miles to go.  


Turning onto Michigan Avenue, heading north with about 4 miles to go, I was hurting.  There were no cramps yet, but my entire body was ready to be done.  I knew that I had about 45 minutes left and couldn't, under any circumstances, quit moving.  Up until that point, the race had been extremely fun and fairly easy to run, but things changed as the runners around me seemed to move forward and I seemed to stay in the same place.  I knew that the final miles were a mental test and had prepared well in advance for how to handle it; it was something I had thought about for the last month of training.  From deep down, I put the plan into place.


I ran mile 23 for my nephew, Charles.  He is the sweetest little kid i've ever been around, and I can't help but smile when I see him running toward me.  His presence in my life is nothing short than a gift from a higher power, and I'm going to do everything possible to make sure he knows how much he is loved as he grows up.  It's that simple.


Mile 24 was for Susan.  She doesn't know it, but she's a million times stronger than i'll ever be.  I couldn't ask for a better sister, and I love her very much.  She and I know each other inside and out, and our friendship has only gotten stronger as we've grown.  She's beautiful.


I ran mile 25 for the two greatest people in my life; the most loving, caring, compassionate parents ever.  From day one they have loved me unconditionally, without question or caveat, and I would have never found my way in this world if it weren't for them.  They continue to show me love and support in everything that I do, and for that I will be forever grateful.  That's the truth.  


That leaves only one mile left.  The last mile.  And, well, I ran that one for myself.  I ran it with my head held high and my eyes focused forward.  There were many years when I wouldn't have done that, when I would have stayed back and let someone else take the lead, because of self-doubt and shame.  But not anymore.  In that last mile I finally felt like a guy with a sense of worth and identity.  It took thirtysomething years to come around, but I finally know where my place is.  I finally feel comfortable in my own skin.


I crossed the finish line of my second marathon overwhelmed with physical exhaustion and legs in full-on cramp mode, but my spirits were soaring.  Not too far after, I experienced a release of emotions with reckless abandon.  I couldn't hold them in any longer.  Finding Mrs. Murie, we celebrated our accomplishments with hugs and congratulations.  In that afternoon, under a gorgeous crystal blue sky, surrounded by thousands of runners, I owned Chicago.  And for the first time ever I felt like I knew who I was.  I am a runner.  I am a marathoner.  

Though they haven't quite left the 2011 Chicago Marathon yet, I know that my thoughts will soon venture toward the next race.  It's inevitable.  We're schedule to run two halfs in December, as well as a 10K this weekend; but those races will only serve as precursors to my next chance at going the ultimate distance.  It's where I want to be.  In the interim, however, I think i'll hold on to this one just a little while longer.  


Run.