Saving Grace

This past weekend I completed the 13.1 Chicago although if you look for my name on the results page of their site you won't find it. According to the official results only 130 people finished the race. What you miss when you view that page are the stories of all those who finished even after the race was called, the water stations were abandoned, and the clocks turned off. You don't see the determination of those who left it all on the pavement along Lakeshore Drive.



Before the start



I have been looking forward to this race since last November when I participated in the Hot Chocolate 15k/5k in Chicago. I fell in love with Chicago as a racing city. The runners are diverse and anything within the city is flat and fast--coming from Nashville I can so appreciate that.  Unlike my training for the Tom King Classic, I was ready for the distance and apparently for the heat.

Everything about the 13.1 Chicago was great: the registration ($13.10 off the registration fee), the communication, the shuttle set up, the location, the packet pick-up (quick and organized), the after party plan (pizza, beer, and massages--seriously). . .and the flag system.  What could not be controlled was the weather. The day of the race temps were 79 degrees at 7:00am. For runners of a half-marathon, that's not a good thing. The heat makes your effort much harder. The heat means a greater chance of dehydration, leg cramps, sunburn, heat exhaustion or something more serious. . .The race started under a yellow flag which meant that runners were cautioned to slow their pace and stay hydrated.

The day before the race my mission was hydration. During the Tom King Classic I suffered serious leg cramps mid race due to dehydration, high temps, and poor training. I was determined not to repeat my mistakes. The morning of the race I kept working at centering myself, getting my thoughts in check. This was my third venture into half-marathon land but I still had the doubt, the feeling of "who am I to be here" as I looked around at the real runners. I turned on my music, did my warm up, drank three cups of water, prayed, cried a little (yes, I did), and then let it all GO.

When the race started my energy was high--I was dancing and chatting up a storm. My friend Toya was at the end of the starting chute cheering me on. I ran for about 1:30 then started my walk/run intervals, making sure to keep my tempo. Folks looked at me a little strange when I cheered at the end of mile 1. I hit my mark and finished mile 1 in 13:39. Two miles were done in 27:42. Four miles done in 57:38. I was so excited because I was keeping the pace I'd worked so hard for over the past weeks. After mile 5 I started to feel the heat even though I had run smart; I had changed from running intervals to running only in shaded areas or ten minutes into the new mile. So, after mile 5 I stopped running at all and used a faster walk pace.

I was so happy to hit mile 7 because it meant there was more course behind me than in front of me. My happiness turned to annoyance and almost tears when one of coordinators announced that the race had been stopped and we were to head to the shuttles to be driven to the finish line. What?? That explained why the clocks no longer flashed on the mile markers and I hadn't notice the flags changing from yellow to red to black because I was so focused on MY race. A few of us asked if we could finish anyway and they said it was up to us but they were advising everyone to take the shuttles. HELL NO! was my response. I trained for this and I was doing a fabulous job. FIT GIRL, FORWARD!!!



The finish line!!!

 Maybe my righteous indignation put a little more pep in my step. All I know is that I refused to just be handed a medal. To date I don't have any DNFs on my record and I did not travel all the way to Chicago to get one. All of a sudden I heard an old No Limit (you know, Master P and the crew) in my head, "I won't stop now, I can't stop. You can't stop me, so (dude) don't try. We true soldiers we don't stop! We keep rollin nah nah nah nah nah!" With that gusto I finished 8 miles in 1:59:48.

That glory only lasted two more miles because as I cleared mile 9 they pulled all the water stations and left jugs of water with empty cups at the abandoned aid stations. From mile 10 to 12 I kept it conservative and was only focused on finishing, my time no longer a concern. As much as I wanted to finish in less than three hours, my safety came first. At mile 11 I could feel the heat getting to me and when I stopped to get some water my legs started cramping a little.

I was elated as I came into the chute and others shouted "way to go!" "good job" "you did it!".   When I crossed the finish line one of my dearest friends, someone I used to watch run, hugged me and draped my medal around my neck.   What I didn't know as I traversed the last few miles was that another had lost his life due to the heat and 11 others had been taken to the hospital. No, I didn't hit my finish time goal. But I am so thankful that by God's grace I finished, yet again.



Reflecting and relishing the victory



This post is dedicated to Zachary Gregory, the 26 year old runner who lost his life on Saturday, June 4th during the race.

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