RackOfftober

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Gateway to heaven.

It's 7:25 p.m., Sunday evening. Mrs MLCMM and I are at the front gate, or rather, we're standing at the point where the front gate would be if we had one. We probably should have a front gate, but we don't. Given that there is a sturdy stone wall completely surrounding our front garden except for where the portal to our front garden meets the public footpath, it would make sense, otherwise, what's a stone wall for? But we don't have a gate, and we've accepted its strangeness so unquestioningly, that now that I've come to notice it, it makes me feel a little uncomfortable.

But I digress. As I say, it's a Sunday evening and even more oddly than the missing front gate, we are outside the house bidding each other goodnight. I am leaving for work, and the incongruity of the scene confuses me, as it often does, only this time amplified by my noticing that damned absent gate. It seems I'm always at odds with normal, civilised society. Well, at least that's what my mother always told me, but now the idea is sharpened by an unexplained absence that I've never really noticed until this evening.

I puzzle over this all the more on the train into work. The train is largely empty, because while Sunday night appears to be the new Saturday night for the young and hip, it's still a little too early in the evening for them to be travelling to their hipster bars and trendy themed restaurants in town and the now vibrant, inner western suburbs. So I enjoy a quiet train ride whilst pondering deep, metaphysical mysteries such as why we don't have a front gate, and whether I'd packed enough food to get me through the night shift or not.

Night shifts are generally quiet but can be hellish when something goes significantly wrong. Tonight is one of the quiet ones, and I'm delighted to be able to leave one of the TVs on ESPN which has live coverage of this year's Chicago marathon. I switch it on about 55 minutes into the race, and at this early stage there is a lead pack of about a dozen runners, mainly Kenyans plus an Ethiopian, but notably also keeping up are two Japanese and two U.S. runners. The pace is noticeably slow, but also a little chaotic. They seem to be all over the place, but the commentators explain this is due to the heat, this apparently being one of the hottest Chicago marathons in many years. Also contributing is the lack of any pacemakers this year. The combination of heat and no pace-making means they are on track for one of the slowest Chicago marathons in years, but there's no doubting the effort the athletes are putting in.

Among the leaders and the only one looking truly comfortable is last year's winner Dickson Chumba, seeking to become only the second person ever to win back-to-back Chicago crowns.

As typically happens in these races, one by one the leading pack dwindles until by 35km there are only two runners left: Chumba, who is still looking extremely relaxed and confident, and the older, taller fellow Kenyan Abel Kirui. Kirui has twice been crowned world marathon champion, but has seen no success since 2012 and is generally regarded to be in his decline. Certainly, he is struggling to keep pace with Chumba who still looks very comfortable, but each time he surges Kirui digs deep and matches him. This is turning into a ding-dong battle; Chumba determined to shake Kirui and win his second successive title, while Kirui looks to be running with the realisation that he can resurrect his career here on the (it must be said) largely deserted streets of Chicago.

There are, of course, pockets of spectators, but by and large, the lack of cheering crowds is a bit of a shock, but it is early morning in Chicago, and the heat is probably playing its part in keeping the spectators away.

The commentators are making a big deal about the last hill, a fairly nasty climb just short of the finish line which looks set to be the death knell for whichever of these two runners is struggling the most when they arrive there. My money is on Chumba, who still looks calm and comfortable, whilst Kirui is battling hard and staying with Chumba but clearly having to work harder.

Of course, this writer's kiss of death ensures that just short of the last hill, with less than a kilometre to run, Kirui manages to break clear of Chumba and holds a three-second lead up the hill and on to the finish line. Chumba is so disappointed he doesn't even shake Kirui's hand but immediately leaves the finish area. A little unsporting perhaps, but I think it was the gross disappointment he felt rather than any ill-feeling toward Kirui.

The final time of 2:11:23 was indeed a slow time, but what a race! A real battle and something of a fairytale finish. It just shows that circumstance, rather than time, are what makes a great race. The conditions were very hard for even seasoned professionals, but this made for a classic battle and absorbing finish.
 
Conditions were similarly unhelpful for my own little 5km training run today. The night shift of course meant it was well into the afternoon before I was able to tie up the shoelaces, and apart from the detrimental effects of circadian cycle disruption, we had our first big day of summer here, with the temperature reaching 33 degrees C as I contemplated how I was to tackle the scheduled 5km, now looking like a bit of a marathon of its own given the circumstances.

I took off at a gentle pace on the treadmill, our biggest fan blowing full in my face to offset the heat a little. Whether it was the inspiring run of Kirui and Chumba, a better adaptation by myself to the impact of working the night shift, an improving general fitness, or more likely, a combination of all three, I soon found myself trundling along feeling as comfortable as Chumba looked during the race, albeit at rather less than half the pace he ran.

In fact, I felt so surprisingly good that I quickly decided to turn the run into a brisk little tempo session, upping the pace every half kilometre and finishing what turned out to be my fastest 5km tempo run in over three and a half years! Quite where that came from I can't say, but a beaut little burst of endorphins and a nice entry in the running log spreadsheet had me humming happily through the rest of the day.

It still wasn't what I would call a fast 5km, being a long way outside my 5km PB, but in those conditions, it certainly amounts to one of my best runs in a very long time.

Things are looking up. Like Kirui, my running 'career' ain't over yet, either. Not by a long way!