Numbus Couzin posted the following write up of our 1995 Chicago Marathon in rec.running:

Newsgroups: rec.running

From: nimbus@physics.purdue.edu (Nimbus Couzin)

Subject: Chicago Marathon summary (through my eyes)...

Organization: Physics Department, Purdue University

Date: Tue, 17 Oct 1995 18:04:41 GMT

Another marathon has passed; all the hard work that goes into it, and the surrounding chaos of the marathon weekend. The early morning wakeup and dressing in a garbage bag to go out into the chicago cold (35 degrees), the search for parking in downtown chicago, the long lines for the porta-potties (always wondering what happens to the people at the back of the lines who obviously won't make it before the race starts), the nervousness waiting for the starting gun - hopping up and down in place to keep warm and "become" limber.

I was s'posed to meet my friends at the expo saturday, but failures and a Monet exhibit at the Art Institute kept me from doing that, so I had to simply hope to find them early on, which I figured would be easy because we were planning to run the same pace. So off I went; the first mile always goes by instantly, and I was quite pleased to see 6:27 on the clock, only three seconds off my desired 6:30 pace. A couple blocks later, my friend Jim speaks to me from behind. I forgot what he said, probably something about the Powerbar booth at 1:00 yesterday (ooops). Anyway, we were both feeling pretty good and continued on at our 6:25 or so pace. A few seconds quicker than desired, but at least we refrained from something really stupid like 6:10 miles. It was pretty cold and I had no gloves, but other than that I felt great. I got a lot of comments on my hair, not surprising because it was officially "tiger lily" in color, reminding many Chicagoans of Dennis Rodman, the Bulls' newest player. I would've made it red if I'd know the worm had made his that color. It kept things fun having the crowd yell out so much stuff. I talked a bit too much, I was in a good mood, but tried to keep my mouth shut, or at least not spitting out words.

One of the early mile markers was off. Three, four? Had we really suddenly lost 40 seconds? Nah. Someond behind us s yelled out for everyone not to worry. 6:20 pace he said. Eh? More like 6:26 at that point, but close enough. The next marker seemed closer, and by five or six they were right on and consistent. The pace was easy to keep. By mile 8 I told Jim that it was nice how fast the first ten miles go by, almost like you get to start at mile ten. Not quite, he said. But man, it was feeling good as we went back through downtown. I saw one friend around mile ten, then sister and girlfriend on bikes at mile 12 snapping pix. Crowded streets, plenty of Rodman comments. I didn't talk to the crowd, and kept my conversation at single or double word comments to Jim. Things like "Forty three" (degrees), or "good mile" (when we were right on our 6:30 pace), or "feeling ok?" Things were getting tougher and I realized I should save my breath. Still on a perfect pace, settling in at about 6:27. I think mile ten was 1:04:26. And the half was right on that pace as well, though our miles started turning into 6:30s, instead of the upper 6:20s we had been cranking out. It was a nice feeling that came over me around mile ten that it was looking like we could indeed pull off the 2:50 marathon. But still a long way to go!

The halfway point must've been about 1:24:30; I think I remember us being on a 2:49 pace. It was nice to be running with a friend, the first time I've managed to do that for more than a mile or two during a marathon. Very cool. We ran side by side mostly, unless it got crowded, but we were never more than a few feet apart.

Then it started getting tough! I felt ok at the halfway, but by mile 15 I was starting to look ahead for the mile markers. I told Jim he might have to go ahead, cuz I wanted to slow down a few seconds. He basically said "no" just keep running, don't give up that easily, not after all the work we've done. I was happy to see the mile 17 mark approach; I had somehow thought it would only be the 16 marker. I guess the brain was getting tired too. I kept pushing a bit harder every mile to keep that pace.

Around that point, with nine or ten miles to go, my calves started absolutely killing me. They've been my weak link for the past year now, and even though they hadn't been a big problem during the last few months of training, they seemed to not like this extended bit of hard fast running. At least they both hurt equally; we physics geeks appreciate symmetry. But as the pain from the calves increased, I became fearful that at any moment I could get a terrible cramp which would stop me in my tracks. But one has no choice but to suppress that fear, and run as if it will not occur. We were still thirty seconds ahead of our 6:30 pace at mile 18. A friend of Jim's appeared at the side of the street on bike. He had come in 20th in the 5K, and was there to root us on. I had never met him, so Jim said, in stride, "Dave, Nimbus... Nimbus, Dave." A fine introduction, even if I couldn't really turn my head properly to get a good view of him as we ran past. He gave Jim some advice on his posture or something.

The next two miles not much changed. Both of us were breathing harder, but we kept going at close to the same pace. We were disappointed to see the mile 19 and 20 clocks greet us with the information that we had just run 6:45 miles each time; meaning that at mile 20 we were now right on our original desired 6:30 pace. Not bad, but we knew the next 10K would be killer. It was.

At this point, thoughts like "what would be my time if I run 7:30 miles from here on out be?" run through one's head. Too hard to calculate. I remember somewhere around mile 21 or so - after another 6:45 (?) mile telling Jim to keep pushing, let's just salvage this the best we can, knowing that our 2:50 goal was lost. I saw more friends on bikes at 31st and Lake Shore Drive; good to have support waiting around the corner, but all they could do was wave. Still, nice to have friends along the way. As we cruised along the bike path, Jim started to pull ahead of me. My calves were burning with pain, every step squeezing down on them, pushing the pain up to my brain. I was getting more out of breath as well by this point. As Jim got about twenty feet ahead I somehow started to feel a bit better and regained a bit of my now hampered stride, and pulled closer, eventually pulling even with him as we got off the path and back onto the Drive. "C'mon Jim, you can do it," as I pulled a few feet out in front of him. He responded properly, of course, by pulling even with me. We were both dying, but knew it was mile 23 and the finish was near. Too much work to have it all lost now. He told me to go ahead if I needed to, but I was giving it my all just to maintain that pace, which I suspect was now in the 7:00 range. We stopped worrying about the exact clock, and just pushed as hard as we could, somehow defying our body's will, not listening to our brains which are simply yelling "stop, walk, slow down....." The breathing even became hard; I raised my hand to scratch my back and my arm felt quite heavy.

Man, that was immensely tough; I can still barely realize how hard it was. But one just tries to maintain form, even if your calves don't allow it, one swings the arms a bit more for extra anything, and looks ahead, waiting for the next mile marker. With simple math, it looked like we could still get about a 2:53 if we kept a reasonable pace. At mile 25, Jim pulled out ahead. I still don't know if it was his kick, or if I was just absolutely pooping out. But I do know there was some boppy upbeat music at that point, and I could see him grooving to it as he put it in overdrive. I tried to stay with him, but just couldn't. His friend Dave came out of somewhere and yelled words of encouragement to both of us. The mile lasted forever, and the last 0.2 even longer, but the finish banner and cheering crowd was a thrilling sight. My name was on the loudspeaker as I came to the line and saw my time at 2:53:25 with only a few yards to go. I tried to raise my arms but they only got to about horizontal with my shoulders, nevertheless a victorious pose. Jim was just ahead of me in the finishing chutes; we exchanged high fives and a hug and probably a few big smiles. PRs for both of us, me by five minutes and him by six. Plenty to be happy about. Water, bananen, and some Sam Adams, followed by a more water and a nice massage finished out the experience. Jim came through with a 2:53:07, and I got 2:53:3x.

I've left out tons - who can put a marathon on paper? See you in boston, and back again in chicago next year! It was great doing the whole thing with a friend; we both kept each other going throughout during our hard points. It was also great we could both do as well as we did. A nice day in chicago!

Nimbus

James B. Elliott's version of this story.

Back to the Running Vita of James B. Elliott