Chicago Marathon, Here I Come (Tomorrow)

I’ve run two marathons so far—NYC in 2022 and Berlin in 2023. And I write this post on the eve of #3 in a hotel bed about a half mile from the Chicago start line in Grant Park.

This training cycle has felt different, largely because I’ve got a 9 month old monster in my life. I remember watching day-in-the-life videos of an endurance athlete dad YouTuber while Yoko was pregnant. The influencer proudly woke up at 430am to have enough time for a coffee and speed workout all before the baby was up.

I tried to be that dad over the past 22 weeks. It wasn’t really the same. Mostly because I realized that my effort was only part of the equation. I can wake up at 5a but Yoko has to be on call for urgent baby needs and the lil dude has to actually sleep. It’s been 100% a team effort. Thanks team, this one is dedicated to you.

A year ago in Berlin

I’m nervous for tomorrow.

That’s not particularly surprising. Marathon training feels like pushing a machine to its limits and the diagnostic meters aren’t visible. I try to judge the machine’s performance (my body) with various senses. How did that run feel? Is that pain level more of a 2 or 3? Is that ache normal? I’ve tried to ride the line of pushing myself hard while not overworking myself beyond short term repair. It requires a triangulation between run metrics, body feel, and stress management. It’s imperfect and satisfying to imagine myself at the start line in one piece.

After NYC in 2022, as I was building back up my mileage, I was diagnosed with a minor stress syndrome in my right tibia. A dull ache would bloom and build near my right ankle after 5 minutes of running.

It was more frustrating than painful. I couldn’t finish a mile without my leg whispering, “Something’s wrong down here, bro.” The rehab took about 12 weeks. I learned that many of my right leg muscles are weaker than my left. Perhaps it’s due to years of imbalance after I fractured my right ankle on a pinecone during a rock paper scissors tournament (another story for another time). Physical therapy started with plenty of little exercises combined with full rest. We then moved to 1 min runs alternated with 1 min walks for 10mins total. I got to add a few minutes each week if the pain was in check. A very slow march back up to dozens of miles per week.

The hardest part was the wondering. Is this the run where the pain comes back? The anxiety still follows me. Yet here we are, in Chicago.

Friends have been asking about my goals. Are you trying to run a certain time? It’s true that I’m keen to break four hours. It’s such a round number! In Berlin my chip time was 4:03:11. Strava says I ran a marathon distance that day in 3:57:55. It’d be nice if both of those times started with 3…

But honestly, setting a time goal feels off this go-around. In the middle of one of those January nighttime infant wake ups, I remember thinking… if I can get back to running, return to work, finish that marathon, and feel ok this year, that sounds great.

My middle school friend, Sean, and me, picking up our Chicago bibs yesterday.

I used to think training for a race like this would be as simple as making a plan and executing a plan. But it’s not. There’s a wealth of uncertainty and unknown forces. What else will happen in my life? How will my body respond? What will work be like during this time? What will the weather be like on race day? Which weeks of training will be sidelined by daycare illnesses?

What happens on race day is the culmination of hard work, help (thanks Coach Melissa), and the happenstance of a million other things. To think it’s in my control is laughable.

One thing that has helped me is to think about my body as separate from myself. There’s me, Kevin. And there’s Kevin’s body.

Best of luck Kevin’s body. Congratulations on getting to the day before race day. I hope all goes smoothly getting to the start tomorrow and I wish you the best of luck. Your race time doesn’t matter but it’ll be cool to see how it all shakes out. Unfortunately, you likely won’t be able to run marathons for eternity, so enjoy the day. Don’t forget to pace yourself. Hold up, hold steady, then hold on. If the unexpected occurs, I will have a good story to tell! Proud of you no matter what.