“Keep your head up, and take it all in”

…the last words Gav said to me before he left for his corral, and they were still going through my head as I headed towards mine. A wee early spoiler for you, I did indeed keep my head up, I took it all in and lived in the moment for every single second. Chicago was the home of Michael Jordan’s Last Dance but it was the playground for my First Dance…and I had an absolute ball. Get yourself comfy, maybe grab a cuppa and I’ll tell you all about it (not every single second, but I can’t see this being a short one). You might want to read it in instalments. UPDATE: I’ve come back to this first paragraph from where I’m currently writing – I’m sorry, this is now an essay, actually I think the last essay I wrote was shorter than this. It’s what blogs might have looked like back in Tolstoy’s day… Ach, it’s the last post, let’s go out with a marathon not a sprint…

Before leaving for Chicago, race week started as you might expect for a debut marathoner…the maranoia kicking in big time and every little ache being accentuated ten-fold. What’s wrong with my toe? Is that a hot spot on my foot? IT band now? Really? I pretty much walked into my sports massage appointment with a shopping list but of course none of these things were actually bad and luckily Tommy focused on the ‘usual suspects’ that give me bother. I woke up on Tuesday feeling in good shape from the pre-race MOT and having done a little four mile stretch at the start of the week, decided I was giving myself the time off between now and the race…only to question if this was a sensible move every day that followed. The temptation to have a wee run along the River Walk or Lake Front was HUGE, but I figured we’d do a fair amount of walking in the days before the race and listened to those who told me that after 18 weeks of training, ‘the hay was in the barn’.

About a month ago, we got the message that United had cancelled our direct flight from Edinburgh to O’Hare and we were now going via Dulles (with really tight connection time to add to the stress). We were now getting in on Wednesday night rather than the afternoon and after moaning about it for a bit, I resigned myself to the fact we could do nothing about it and figured it might make getting to sleep on the first night a bit easier. Another major spoiler dear reader, it did not. After a couple of hours sleep, I was wide awake and staring into the darkness…and so began a theme for the next four nights. From leaving Dunfermline on Wednesday to toeing the start line on Sunday, I reckon I slept a total of 13 hours…and it was horrible. During the day was fine, during the day was actually great fun but as each day went on, I was feeling more fatigued…and thinking SURELY tonight will be different. I got four hours continuous on the Friday and it felt like winning the lottery. I was expecting a sleepless Saturday night…but not Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. I’d wake up and it was like someone had turned the gas on – was it adrenaline, nerves, excitement, anxiety, maranoia, a cocktail of everything? Probably. I always struggle to acclimatize heading west but this was the worst I’ve ever felt (heading back east is easy, despite everyone telling me the opposite is true for them). Of course, the more you want to sleep, the more you think about it, the more active the brain gets and less likely you are of getting any.  It didn’t even feel like I was thinking about the race when I woke up or during the dark hours that followed. But my ‘resting’ heart rate wasn’t resting and my body was clearly thinking about the race even if I didn’t consciously think I was. I kept telling myself this is supposed to be fun, an experience to be enjoyed, but the occasion had clearly gripped me. In hindsight, it’s maybe not surprising. I don’t even think it was because it was my first marathon race, or that it was a big event or that I had been raising money for charity. I’ve waited three years for this, it’s the dream race in the dream city. I’ve gone from feeling pretty much finished as a runner, to being days away from the start line. This was a big deal for me and those three years were now three or four days.

When I was lying awake, I started scribbling stuff down for the blog but looking back at it, it reads exactly like someone who is living off of fumes and there’s not a bit of punctuation in it anywhere (what’s new I hear you say). Suffice to say come Saturday night about half eleven, I felt exhausted and had no idea where I was going to find the energy for a marathon. Yet a few hours later, as I was getting ready to get up, it was like there was a reset, my body seemed to relax and there was an acceptance that ‘time had ran out’ – there would be no chance to get any more sleep and that I was going to go out and run a marathon. And do you know what? I felt ready. One of the lads from the Young Hearts Run Free podcast had told me during the week not to think about the lack of sleep during the race and that I’d crash at the end. I actually didn’t crash on the Sunday night, but I also didn’t think about it for a single second of the run or from when I got up to get ready. And although there’s no way to say for sure, I genuinely don’t think it had any major impact on my race.

Jings this feels like a bleak start eh? I promise you it gets lighter….let’s go to the Expo! We went on the Thursday morning for opening day, figuring it would be quieter, all the merch wouldn’t have sold out and it would give us the next few days to take it easy.  Every taxi driver we had would chat to us about the race or about football (or both) and our journey to the Expo took us a reverse of the first mile and through the start line (to our surprise we found out that the route came straight past our hotel, so that made it easy for Scott’s first spectator spot). After the taxi took a few corners that Max Verstappen would’ve been proud of, we were in the Expo…with the accompanying dramatic music from the PA system doing nothing to keep my excitement in check! I was ready to run now! People talked about how I’d feel like a coiled spring or a dug on a lead (charming) but they were all spot on – Scott even said on the Friday night, you just need to get to the start line now, you’re ready. If I could have started that night, I’d have probably said yes! There was a good buzz about the expo, I got to meet and thank all the volunteers from Team RMHC, chatting to people on all the stands, photos with all the backdrops and picking up a ton of free stuff (Fifers love a freebie, eh?). I also picked up a few race pace plans based on some of the thinking I’d done in the last few weeks…but more on that later. The branded cowbell is going to come in handy for when I get back to cheering pals on at races. I was pretty underwhelmed with the official Nike gear and merchandise – just a bit plain, and a color range that gave you no indication it was bespoke for Chicago. But Fleet Feet (think Run4It in Chicago), Saucony and a few other brands nailed it with some great looking kit in the colours of the Chicago flag and I treated myself to a few bits and pieces. If you see me at a parkrun between now and the end of the year, I’ll be a head to toe walking brand ambassador for the city of Chicago…even more so after picking up some cool Under Armour gear (another brand who absolutely nailed it, in terms of providing some great Chicago themed merch and a great customer experience from their store on Michigan Avenue). It was a scorcher of day and we left the Expo and took a walk along the Lake Front trail, wee tour of Soldier Field and then stopped for a drink in the shade near the Shedd Aquarium. It’s a part of the city I used to run a lot, and it was nice to take in the view of the city skyline from the steps at the Shedd, looking out towards Columbus Drive and Grant Park…where the dream would start and finish in a few days time.

As far as the pre-race goes, I’m not sure I could’ve had a better few hours before the race started. It definitely helped that I was with Gav for most of it. I made my breakfast in the room (bananas and peanut butter bagels has been the standard on long run days) and then on the underground to Jackson. The station was literally underneath the hotel, a few stops and then a short walk to Grant Park. It was a chilly fresh morning and fair play to the runner who was ‘travelling light’ with just a little plastic poncho over his running gear.  We were there for about 5:30am so got quickly through the security check and on to the RMHC tent. The charity looked after us so well on the day, both pre and post-race (and indeed all the way up to race day). We had our own bag drop, seats and tables, toilets, breakfast buffet (I could’ve just got my bananas and bagels here too, but I had some porridge to top things up) a stretch/foam roller area and a DJ who was doing a great job hyping us up, with a nice mix of positivity and good tunes.  The butterflies had kicked in, but I like that feeling. It’s the feeling of nerves turning to excitement. It was great to meet some work colleagues and friends from the charity that I’d worked with in 2019 (which led to me applying for the marathon) and just nice chatting to Gav and all the RMHC runners – all of it just helped put me at ease. What didn’t put me at ease, was try as I might, I was having no joy at the ‘porta potty’. Runners will know what I mean here and possibly feel my pain, non-runners will be pulling a face at all this toilet talk. I never usually have a problem here on race days, but I figured I’d probably have to make a pit-stop at some point during the race. I didn’t – so that’s the end of the toilet talk!  I used to live along the street from the United Center and I’d go to the hockey every night it was on (Let’s Go Hawks!). Jim Cornelison does a spine-tingling rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner before the puck drop and the race organisers had hired him to the do the anthem. As I stood listening, I could feel the smile appearing on my face. It’s time. I tapped my pocket that had a 50p poker chip in it; given to me years ago by someone very special who I miss every day. As long as you’ve got a chip, you’ve got a chance I used to tell him. Mon then, Jimmy, I said, let’s go.

A short walk to Corral H. I was here because back in 2019 when feeling much fitter, faster and probably drunk, I’d estimated a finish time of 4:00-4:15. I didn’t see any point in trying to move back, I figured I’d find a space and run my race and there would be plenty space for the quicker runners to go by (and there was). I got chatting to Lisa, a veteran of many marathons including a fair few Chicago races. We talked about running, Chicago, family, everything and anything and as we moved closer to the start line wished each other well and got ready for the off. ONE MINUTE shouts the PA announcer. I’m buzzing, but I know I need to be disciplined and not let the adrenalin take over and go off too quick. Everyone told me it would feel crowded and I might need to weave for a bit and whilst it was like waves of people for as far as the eyes could see, I got a clear path pretty quickly. Months of training, years of anticipation, the wait is over and we’re off.

If I close my eyes, I can visualise most of the run but don’t worry, you’re not going to get a full-length commentary. But maybe get that 2^nd cup of tea and a biscuit – I’ve no idea how long this next bit is going to take.

You meet the crowds within the first 300 metres or so as you head ‘under the city’ before reappearing at the river. And from then, you’re never really alone until you make the turn for Roosevelt and the finish line. And the crowds were awesome. The best money I’ve spent on marathon prep was the fiver I spent in the Dunfermline Athletic club shop, getting David to put my name on my vest. SO many people shouting your name and I tried to acknowledge all of them. I’m feeling emotional that first mile, probably the first three miles as you run through downtown. I will probably always be a wannabe Chicagoan but it feels like a home race. I’m smiling, but I can feel the dampness in my eyes – I wonder how it must have looked to the crowds? I tapped my chip – I’d tap it a few times along the course and sometimes have a wee chat with him. I spotted a big Scotland flag and roared out to the owners, then Scott (he’d see me three times and did an amazing job getting round the course) and I was feeling great, felt light on my feet. I knew I wasn’t going quick, but that was the plan – the form felt good and so did the knees.       

Heading north towards Lincoln Park, and Lake Shore and Boystown, I’m starting to settle into a rhythm. I’ve found the ‘blue line’ (that marks the quickest way home). One watch is already so out of sync and thinks I’ve ran more miles than I have, so that just becomes a timer. On the other watch (don’t ask why two) it’s showing me that the pace is quickening, not by much, but it’s dipping under the 10min miles. When you get to the furthest north point in the course, not far from Wrigley Field, you make the turn to head south back towards the city and that’s where I had a decision to make. I could feel the sun coming up and the words of our Wrigley Field tour guide, Steve, himself a veteran Chicago marathoner (and the Strathearn Marathon I found out) and cross-country coach were ringing in my ears. “Don’t get cocky”. He told us that if the sun is coming up (and it was), you’ll feel it in the 2^nd half of the race where it’s less sheltered from the buildings. I could try to keep increasing the pace, trying to get down to 9:30s (which had been pretty regular in training) and hope to maintain it, knowing that I’d be in unknown territory after I got to Mile 21 and the wheels could fall off. Do that, and best case you might get around 4:20, maybe quicker (and 4:20 was one of the first training plans I picked up). Or, I’m relatively comfortable at around 10/10+ minute miles, I’m enjoying this, the legs are feeling ok and I’m pretty confident I could maintain this for the next 20 miles. Stick to this and I could get in around 4:30. I wanted to be able to look back on my Chicago experience and say I’d enjoyed it – and genuinely mean it. Finishing 10 or 15 minutes before 4:30 wouldn’t have added a huge amount of ‘extra happiness’. But trying to go for it, blowing up and then struggling home would definitely impact the happiness.

So I decided on the 4:30. Please don’t think for a second that I was ‘cruising’ this and it was a doddle or the easy option. I was still having to work and was feeling hungry at this point (unusual) but a gel quelled that a bit and I was keeping the salt levels topped up like I’d done throughout all the long runs (cheers Gav). I was doing ok with hydration too but with no frame of reference for how much is enough, I was grabbing a drink at every station – water to start, then the Gatorade a little bit further on (eventually it would be both at each stop). The run south back towards downtown had crowds on both sides of the road again and they were brilliant. Whether it was individual shouts to me and other runners, or the music, or the cheering it just gave you a wee lift. Not only was my head up, it felt like it was on a swivel, as I looked left and right and taking it all in. Whilst I’ve made a big thing about living in the moment, there is a bit of me wishing I’d taken my phone with me to film some of that. Just sitting here writing this, I’m smiling – some of the shouts (and the signs) were very funny and a wee laugh does wonders for your mood when you’ve still got 20/19/18/17…miles to go.

Reaching halfway confirmed that the plan I had was the only show in town; I reckoned I could keep it 10 something miles, but wasn’t going to find enough quicker miles to bring the time down by much (apart from the finish which was my quickest pace of the whole race). Back in the centre of the city the noise levels had turned up even more – it felt like the sound was echoing and bouncing off the walls of the towers. But I did hear a shout of Birrell from across the street and spotted Scott waving a bottle at me. ACTIVE ROOT….yaaaassss!!! No offence Gatorade, but Active Root was exactly what I wanted and needed at this point and had filled up a bottle on the off chance I might spot Scott during the 2^nd half of the race. It had an instant effect – placebo or not, who cares. Stomach felt better, I felt like I had a bit more energy with the watch suggesting I’d lifted the pace a bit (that was short lived). It might have been the drink, it might have been the fact that I was over half-way (just run another half marathon, right?) but I had also reached a familiar road from long runs of old…I was heading for Greektown…I was going home.

When you left the towers behind, you could feel the sun had been turned up a notch. Nothing to give you the fear, but enough to know you’d need to keep drinking and salt tabbing. I’d stuck a bit sun cream on before leaving the room, but for us gingers, who knows if it’s ever going to be enough!  Heading over the Expressway, I spotted my old apartment block, the supermarket, the dry cleaners, the chemist, the pub. This neighbourhood was really good to me back in 2019 and it was nice to back. I clapped and waved to the crowd and for the first time in the race, allowed myself to think…aye, you ARE going to finish the Chicago marathon. Emotional….again.  These were streets that I knew and liked. We’d see the United Center, we’d see the Hawks training rink, we’d see the Michelle Obama sports complex (amazing school facility) and we’d see the big Target superstore that genuinely feels like it sells everything (I nearly got lost in it once). Familiarity at this point in the race was good, you knew where you were and where you were going. But my Apple watch was about a 3^rd of a mile over, so the watch would buzz but there would be no sign of the mile markers, you knew you had another few minutes before you’d see another one of those again.

Into Little Italy where I used to like going for my breakfast (the Sweet Maple Cafe should be on all your Chicago bucketlists) so more familiar streets…although they were so much busier than they usually are on a lazy, Sunday morning. I was throwing out the thumbs ups and waving to the people who were rooting for me, I was waving pretty regularly (although it might have looked like I was just shaking out my wrists) and the crowds would respond to that again. Maybe subconsciously I was needing their support a bit more now. My pace was slowing, not by much, but noticeable in my head – when you’ve ran regularly for five months you don’t need a watch to tell you how you are travelling (just as well really, given what was to follow!). It didn’t help that we ran past Al’s Italian Beef and a really nice wee ice cream shop – both thankfully closed or I’d have taken a tactical 5 minute stop for a ‘fuel up’.   But I got a massive pick me up a little further along the course when I got to Pilsen. It was like turning up to a party…and we were all the guests of honour. It was also the first point in the route where bananas were being handed out and I was so grateful for ‘solids’ having had a liquid diet up until this point – and even more grateful they’d topped and tailed it to make it easy to eat! It was really cool seeing all the little ‘unofficial fuelling stations’ that local people and communities had set up along the course; from kids setting up water, lemonade and candy stalls through to people standing with bottles of Malort or trays of beers or shots…I think I even spotted banana beer in Pilsen. The crowds were great all along the course, but I think the neighborhoods closer to the finish know that runners need the encouragement a bit more in the later stages of the race. They didn’t disappoint. Pilsen looked like it was having a great time, people dancing, playing instruments, offering out booze, the lot! I applauded the first two and politely declined the kind offers of the third (found out later Gav took a vodka jelly shot – I think that would’ve been my race over).  I really wish I’d got a video of running through Pilsen. At sections, the road narrowed (just a little) and it felt like you were even closer to the crowds (not quite Tour De France style) but it was like running through a tunnel of noise – so good.  At 21.3 miles I made a quick 10 second stop at the Biofreeze stand to get the spray on my legs…where do you need it asked the volunteer? From the neck down I said, but all over both legs would be fine! Worked quick and definitely took your mind off the growing list of wee aches and pains for a few miles.

Chinatown had another party atmosphere and despite now being into unfamiliar mileage (from a continuous running perspective), I’m feeling confident, strong(ish) but more importantly, happy. I tap the chip again. We’re going to do this. But you are seeing more and more runners who have stopped to stretch, or are trying to walk off a cramp/tightness or people who are now just struggling and you remind yourself not to get cocky. The crowds thin out for a little bit after that, but I spot a friend from work on one of the quieter sections – she cheers and runs along beside me for a bit, filming me on her phone. Looking strong, she said, as I waved goodbye. After seeing the video, dear reader, I did not look very strong…but I was smiling! 

Don’t worry, we’re nearly there, you’ve done well to hang with me for this long. If I had medals to hand out, you’d all get one. We hit the part of the course where on the other side of the street you can see the runners that are a mile ahead of you….and you so want to be on the other side of the street. It reminds me of that bit near the end of the Edinburgh half/marathon course for those familiar with it. It’s definitely a lot warmer now so I’m not skipping a drinks station (double drinks now and a bit water down the back).  Somewhere around mile 23, the Apple Watch packs in. It’s never covered a run this long before (neither have I, so I don’t blame it) but it had served me well on the average pace. Luckily the other watch, despite telling me I’m now in ultra territory, is still working and it has my elapsed time on it…but it can be a bit temperamental. So I decide I’m going to have to up the pace or at least keep the foot on the gas as much as I can for the last few miles…a long stretch that felt like I was part of a parade. I suppose it was, a welcome home parade! The size of the crowds grew as we got closer to the finish. Again, my head is on a swivel, I’m looking across to both sides of the road and it’s just a sea of cheering faces. A runner peels off to start whipping up the crowd and they respond. I later realise that he distracted me from Scott who was screaming BIRRELL, BIRRELL on the other side of the street, but the noise was so loud, I didn’t hear him. His video clip also looks like I’m still going backwards despite that being the quickest section of my race! 800m to go, ach, I’m going for this, leave nothing out there…I get to 400 and think I’ve maybe kicked early but we then make the right turn and there it is in front of you – ‘Mount Roosevelt’, the only noticeable bit of climbing on the whole course. I love a hill, I’m going for it, driving the arms, I think there’s maybe even a ‘yassssss, let’s go’ shouted as I head for the top and the left hand turn to the home straight. No crowds by this point but I do see a runner who is being helped by a volunteer and I’m hoping they let him go to finish the last few hundred metres, but they don’t seem keen. I hit the top of the hill and ping, wee pull in the quad but I catch it quick enough and adjust the stride. I laugh. Five months, countless miles and everything holds together until the last few hundred metres. I’m now convinced I’m running like I need the toilet (luckily I seemed to dodge the finish line photographers), but I’m charging for the line with a smile on my face, Kate Bush is booming from the PA singing about running up that hill and I know I’m going sub 4:30.

4:26:59 – so let’s round it down to 4:26, eh? 😊 Looking back at the finish line video on NBC, I do a funny wee lifting of my leg to shake out my knee, put both arms up in the air and shout Yaasssssssss to no one in particular! A few photos with the medal (which I love) and the chip, my first beer in months (which I wanted to taste amazing but after all the sugary stuff, didn’t) and then I did the toughest mile of the day…the walk back to meet Gav and Scott – it seemed to take forever! I seemed to be accumulating lots of free stuff along the way (I’m a Fifer, it’s practically in our DNA) and then I met Alan from back home who’d nailed his marathon PB (well done again, if you’re reading this mate – I think you finished the marathon in faster time than it’s taken to write this!).  Met up with the guys in the park and we headed down the red carpet back into the RMHC tent where the party was well underway. Thanked my friends from the charity for the opportunity, congratulated friends from work and runners I’d met earlier in the day and then when faced with a completely free bar…this Scotsman just drank Diet Coke and got stuck into the hot buffet instead! I then spent the next few days eating and playing spot the marathon runner on the streets of Chicago. If they didn’t have their medal on, you knew they’d been running based on how they were walking and how they were struggling up and downstairs…I know this because I was in that number!

So there we go, the debut marathon, the dream race in my dream city, done. It probably would’ve been easier just to run along beside me than have to read all of this!  A mahoosive thank you again to everyone who has supported me along the way. Without sounding melodramatic, this time last year I thought that was me and running finished. Scunnered by all the injuries, felt like I was going backwards and despite knowing I had this coming up, did not really feel like I had the legs to get through a marathon or even the training that went with it (as you know I had that fear when the training block started too). But as I’ve said before on here, I feel like a runner again, albeit a different one to the 2016 or 2018 or 2020 versions. But I quite like the 2022 version and I’ve already got a plan for 2023!  Thanks to your generosity, we’ve raised $2170 for RMHC and the 1100 runners that made up Team RMHC raised over $1.8m – that’s 18000 nights of accommodation to help keep families close when their children are receiving care in hospital. But if you’ve dropped me a wee message of support or come out for a run with me, or shared a bit of advice, provided the training plan (cheers Coach Brendan) or read the blogs or flew thousands of miles around the world to put up with all my maranoia (cheers Scott and Gav it wouldn’t have been the experience it was without you)…you are all ‘Team Chicken Legs’ and that support was priceless. Thank you. And to the owner of that poker chip who I used to sit and watch the Dunfermline Half Marathon on Aberdour Road with, thanks for looking after me out there, I hope you enjoyed the tour… I’m always up for another adventure if you are…