Running in the Rain (Chicago Half Race Report)

If you are in Chicago, you know that the weather could *not* have been worse on Sunday. I've done races in cold, blowing snow and on paths covered with snow and ice. But when it comes to crappy race conditions, nothing beats rain. I'd rather run in the cold than run in pouring rain.

My dad and I had planned to do this race "together" (that's in quotes because my dad is faster than I am so I wasn't planning to actually run with him). But when we talked on Saturday, he was thinking of bagging the race due to weather conditions. On the other hand, I was planning to run the race as long as it wasn't cancelled--but I certainly wasn't happy about it.

In the end, my dad did run the race. And the weather didn't end up mattering all that much--at least to me. Don't get me wrong--it was *miserable* out there. My shoes were squishing with water, and I was absolutely drenched. But once you're wet, you're wet.

I had a great race and don't think my first half-marathon experience could have been better (except, you know, if it hadn't rained 700 inches during the race!). My dad and I ran the first two miles together. I saw him inching up around mile 2 and probably could have stuck with him for longer, but I was worried about going out too fast and not having the juice to finish. So I ran along in the rain, mile after mile, appreciating the fantastic volunteers and all the hardy souls who came out to watch us run. Our names were on our bibs, so I frequently had people screaming my name, which was kind of fun. And I gave a bunch of little kids high fives. I felt sort of like a rock star if you want to know the truth.

I was surprised how quickly the miles were passing. By mile 8, I still felt strong, and I knew finishing was a done deal. I ran through all the water stops, figuring that a rain storm was the perfect time to master the art of drinking while running.

This was such a different experience for me than my ten-mile race back in April. By mile 8, I was dying. I stopped at each and every one of the water stops and I even (gasp!) walked a few times. It took everything I had to finish that race, and I was so let down when I finally did. The friends I had gone to the race with finished much, much faster than me, and I was so disappointed in my finishing time that I thought about taking up knitting or bowling--something I could (maybe?) excel at in a way that I clearly didn't excel at running.

But this race was different. I wasn't at the front of the pack. I may never be a "front of the pack" sort of runner. But--and this is key--I wasn't at the back of the pack either. I had been so worried about the SAG bus. I DID see the bus following the people at the back of the pack. But by that point, I was already past the turnaround and probably two miles ahead of the dreaded bus. Of course, in the end they must not have pulled people from the course since some runners posted finish times of 4 hours, 30 minutes and 3 hours was supposed to be the cut-off point.

In any case, it took me two hours and change to finish my April ten-miler. So I was *thrilled* to arrive at the ten-mile point at 1:51. Yes, that's right. I shaved NINE minutes off my April time. I was pretty excited about that. I'm not a running expert, but this seems like a huge time improvement. I'm still not the world's fastest runner, but I am definitely getting faster all the time.

This is where things get confusing. When I think about where I was timewise at mile 10, I'm confused about why it took me so long to cover the last three miles. I wasn't running with my Nike+ because I thought it would be too much of a distraction to stay so focused on pace. I know that I was averaging an 11-minute mile pace for much of the race up to this point. And I don't think my pace dropped much between miles 10 and 13. But I did stop to pee, and now I'm kicking myself for not waiting. I'd guess it took me five minutes (there was a line at the porta potties), and I'd *kill* to have those five minutes off my finish time!

In any case, the last three miles felt as strong as the first ten. In retrospect, I think I could have run the entire thing about 30-45 seconds per mile faster. But, of course, this was my first half-marathon and I really wanted to finish. Finishing strong was a bonus. I crossed the finish line feeling like I could maybe run another (very slow) mile. Which means that I didn't run the race as fast as I could have.

My chip time was 2:30. That was also my (secret) goal time, so I came in right where I wanted to be. But oh--if only I hadn't stopped to pee!

I had such a great time and can't wait to do another one. Of course, I'd like to do the next one faster, but I've got until spring of 2009 when it sounds like they're adding a new half-marathon to the Chicago race schedule. I am so totally there!

My dad finished in 2:07. So he basically kicked my ass. But my dad is a runner, and I knew he was faster than me. Maybe next year I can improve my times enough to run the whole thing with him!

My stepmom watched the entire race in the driving rain, which I thought was pretty cool. And she also took a moment to visit the race store and buy my dad and me each a T-shirt, a magnet, and a poster. Awesome! I saw her at mile 6 (or was it 7)? My dad had been talking about possibly bailing at the halfway point if the weather was too miserable. But I saw my stepmom holding his rain jacket and knew he'd decided to finish. No small surprise there. I had a hard time believing that my dad (who is pretty tenacious) would quit in the middle of the race.

Dean also braved the atrocious weather to come out, and I saw him waiting near the end--just before I crossed over the finish line. Have to give a big shout-out to Dean and my stepmom and all the other people who came out in the terrible, terrible rain to see those of us who ran the race.

No photos since the rain was driving so hard that Dean was worried about pulling out the camera. But I saw a million race photographers on the course, so hopefully one of them got a good photo or two of me running my first half.

My mom asked me last night while we were out to dinner if I just stop running now. It seemed like a pretty funny question. I do always feel a little lost without something big to train for. But I definitely have a lot of work to do in terms of speed, so that's where I'll focus next. There are a bunch of 5Ks coming up in the fall months. And then in January, I'll probably start training for the April 10-miler for 2009.

[Editor's Note: It's worth noting that of all the forumites on Runner's World who ran the Chicago Half, not one of them posted a personal record (PR) for this race. Some of them were 15 minutes off where they expected to be. So I suppose it's possible that I would have had a faster finish if it weren't raining cats and dogs out there. I have no other race to compare it to, so it's hard to say what I'd have done without the rain.]