Chicago: The Marathon I'd Almost Forgotten

Greetings friends!

I never talk about it. I never even think about it. That blank spot in my memory is quite unusual.

• It’s unusual because there’s nothing runners like better than boring anyone within earshot about marathons they’ve run.
• It’s even more unusual when I consider the Chicago Marathon is one of the six World Marathon Majors that a runner must complete to obtain the coveted Six Star Finisher’s medal.

I’ve drawn so many lovely life lessons from running that I consider taking up running the single best thing I did to enhance my life. Well, the second-best thing after marrying my wife and raising a family.

I’ve written about learnings from Boston and Berlin, New York and Tokyo, and the ridiculous number of times I’ve run the Zurich marathon. I wrote about running streaks and ultra-marathons. Pretty much everything … except the Chicago Marathon.*

That day was cold, painful, … and embarrassing

These three adjectives illustrate a key Stoic principle: Knowing what is outside our control, partly within our control, and what we can control.

• The weather on race day is outside our control, although being prepared with adequate clothing is not.
• Overtaxing the body leading to pain in a race is partly within our control, both because we can choose how hard to run and we are responsible for how well we trained.
• Embarrassing yourself on race day because of personal choices (more on this in a moment) is entirely within our control. As is the feeling of embarrassment itself, which is a related Stoic lesson.

If you have any idea of the Chicago Marathon in your mind, it’s probably because of extreme heat, not cold. It’s gotten up into the 80s several times, including in 2007, when the temperature hit 88 degrees, leading to several hospitalizations (even one runner’s death) and the race shutting down.

There was no risk of that in 2006. The day started bitter cold, at just 36 degrees, and it scarcely warmed. There was a stiff wind, averaging 18 kilometers an hour. And, worst of all, the forecast was for rain. That forecast led to my calamitous race-day decision that I’ve never spoken of until now.

Looking at my training log, I see I trained hard for this race — more than for any of my prior six marathons. I averaged almost 70 kilometers per week for four months before the race.

The race was painful because I pushed myself hard, keeping a good pace to the end. As a result, I achieved a new personal best of 3:48:27, a full 27 minutes faster than my Zurich marathon just six months earlier.

With all that, you’d think I’d be delighted. Writing this, I feel like I’ve deprived myself of joy in the accomplishment for far too long.

Why the sadness? All right, here it is. I’ll let my running log from 18 years ago do the talking:

Chose not to wear underwear in case it rained and I got soaked through — mistake. Penis & testicles got quite chafed and sore…. Don’t do that again!

It hurts again thinking about it. I cannot tell you what possessed me that morning, never having run before that day without underwear. (And certainly never since!)

I can tell you this was one of the formative experiences in my running career leading to strict adherence to the rule of never trying anything new on race day — whether it’s nutrition, gear, pacing, etc.

It wasn’t just me that suffered bad luck that day. The winner of the race was Robert Kipkeoch Cheruiyot from Kenya, who finished in 2:07:35. The rain largely held off, for which we got a dusting of blustery snow.

Check out what has to be one of the most painful moments of glory as he crosses the finish line!

I felt embarrassed ever since; that’s done now

I can’t go back and give myself a hug or tell dejected post-race James to be kind to himself.

I can’t make up for the fact that I have almost no physical reminders of that race. I’ve got my finisher shirt from every race I’ve run except, mysteriously, the 2006 Chicago Marathon. I haven’t used my own pictures here from that day because I have none.

Of all the wounds we suffer, those we inflict upon ourselves carry a special sting. No one else knew or cared about my travails that day. (I certainly didn’t tell them.) But I knew I’d done something stupid and was annoyed with myself.

Learnings in life come from what we do and what we make of our experiences. For too long, I’ve let what I did define that day.

More important to my fitness than all the miles I’ve logged running, I’ve trained myself to let go of regret in life. This story marks the end of my feeling bad about Chicago 2006.

• It was just a day.
• I was just a few years into my running career.
• I learned and moved on, albeit somewhat gingerly for several days.

What is the lesson for you, dear reader?

Everyone has bad days, even sometimes the winner of the race. If even winners suffer, surely the rest of us do.

If your mistake proves you’re not perfect, welcome to the human race! We share your condition.

Be kind to yourself. When you stumble, get up again, dust yourself off, laugh if you can, and keep moving.

Oh, and if anyone has a spare finisher’s shirt from the 2006 marathon, I’m in the market.

Be well.

* For the alert reader, you might notice I also haven’t said a peep about my London Marathon experience. Stay tuned.