I’ve had the Chicago Marathon circled on my calendar for well over a year. I love the city of Chicago, and it’s one of the fastest courses in the world, so my excitement built throughout 2026, especially after I had to pull out of my planned spring marathon due to an Achilles issue. Going into marathon weekend, I knew the weather would be a factor.
Forecasts called for temps in the low 60s at the start, with high humidity and sun exposure. But my prerace plan was firm. My coach wanted me to approach the race aggressively and “not leave anything on the table.” After adjusting slightly for conditions, I had two main goals: finish in the top 50 overall and break the 2:20 barrier.
The plan was to run a 5:15 to 5:20 pace and hang on as long as I could. From the opening mile, I knew it was going to be a long day. My heart rate quickly climbed into the low 180s—far too high to sustain for two-plus hours—and, even after settling into my pace, I never felt smooth.
The rest of the race was damage control. My 5:15 miles slowed to 5:20s, which slowed to 5:25s, which—by the final 10K—slowed to a 6:00 pace. I finished the race in 2:25:07, good for 118th place and about a minute slower than my personal best of 2:24:12.
Not a total disaster, by any means, but my yearlong dream of PRing had been deferred. As I walked through the finishing chute, I was a mess of emotions. But one thing kept my head high.
I took a swing and went for an ambitious goal and simply didn’t have it on the day. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I took pride in knowing that I didn’t cower and held it together. That’s the tough part about the marathon.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
