The 2023 Chicago Marathon - Finishing The Racing Season In The City That Always Surprises, and Never Disappoints
Skyscrapers, dumpster fires, my very first breath, and the (new) fastest marathoner in the world...Chicago was the perfect place to wrap up 2023
As I lined up at the starting corral of the 2023 Chicago Marathon, all senses felt electrified. My legs pogo-sticked with anticipation, infused by the familiar pheromonal cocktail of pre-race rock music anthems, shared acrid sweat of thousands of runners caged together with their taper tantrums, and the inevitable starting clock burning the final seconds like a lit fuse. Normally this is peak adrenaline time for race day, but not in Chicago - I was still coming down from a 3am outing for Dunkin Donuts coffee that ended in a sprint to avoid a crazy homeless guy lighting dumpsters on fire. In decades of visiting this great city, I can’t recall once not having my energy fully jacked. In fact, I took my very first breath of air here almost 20,000 days ago. Now I’m back to take 20,000 more breaths as fast as I can.
Yes, I was born in Chicago some fifty-mumble years ago. But I think of it as a birthplace more so than a hometown, given the six week minimal tenure that was required before my young parents could pack me and the dog into their 1969 Volkswagen bug and head to Arizona. My father delivered me himself (yay!) in the hospital where his medical career was just beginning, a perfect way for Chicago to etch itself permanently into our family lore. I guess if that is how a city enters your life, one shouldn’t be surprised if it puts on a show for you each time you visit.
Over the years, Chicago has invited me back many times, enough to create a multi-sensory perspective. The deep dish pizza I tasted at Gino’s East as a young college graduate is still a favorite, while the neon lights remind me of a memorable Halloween hitting dance clubs in my 30’s with ghouls and zombies (Michael Jackson Thriller era, naturally). And lest I forget that magical night that blues legend Buddy Guy surprised me and some coworkers at a local club, playing his Stratocaster with such feeling one wintery evening, that we would all sit speechless for hours with tears streaming down our faces and into our whiskey glasses (I would pay homage spending countless hours bending E notes on my Strat for years to come). Now I have “the dumpster fire” story, one of a few I picked up on this trip after refusing to adjust to the time zone from Austria, and seeing the very-wild-3am side of downtown each morning. But as someone who overuses the term “dumpster fire” to describe work projects or doomed relationships, I feel I can now speak from authority.
The weather was ideal for a fast-paced marathon - 40’s (F), slightly overcast, and a uncharacteristically light wind - and the Chicago course is notoriously flat. I was coming off a sore hip that kept me from starting the Berlin Marathon a few weeks before, but it healed itself as fast and strangely as it had appeared. Perhaps one of those fifty-mumble kinds of injuries (ha, ha). My fitness was solid from months of triathlon training, and this was the last race of the season, so I put together a short mental checklist of goals - (1) have fun, (2) finish to get that fourth star of the Six Majors, (3) try and find my local friends Saskia and Nate at mile 10, and (4) aim for a 3’ish hour finish.
This is a beautiful city, which became clear in the first few miles as we exited the park and made our way down the Magnificent Mile. The towering skyline stands as a testament to Chicago’s relentless spirit, its architecture a mosaic of history and ambition that has helped define the global modern city landscape. Depending on who you ask (and when), Chicago is considered the home of the modern skyscraper. Or at least the cool ones. ;-) As we wound our way slowly through the skinny streets, we passed the Willis Tower, once the tallest building in the world. I think of the countless people who've gazed out from its Skydeck, each with their own stories, dreams, and aspirations, much like the diverse tapestry of this city.
As we passed through Old Town (mile 6), the roads opened up a bit, and we all found our racing gears. I saw a lot of the Abbott World Marathon Age Group Championship bibs around me, picking up the pace and taking advantage of the perfect weather. For those who were fit, this was going to be an epic day. I did sign up for the World Champs myself, but given the 2:30’ish times the other old guys were shooting for today, I was definitely not a contender. But it was a great energy boost to see them everywhere.
At mile 10, my friends Nate and Saskia were there holding up an awesome sign made out of adidas shoe boxes. Sweet! We got hugs, snapped a quick photo, and I got back on course. We had recently caught up at the wedding of a friend in California, so it was great to see them on their home turf. Saskia is a regular early morning cold plunger in nearby Lake Michigan, just the kind of local friend you need when racing!
As I went through the halfway point (mile 13.1) in 1:32, I was feeling pretty good. In fact, I was feeling good enough to be a little angry with myself. Another “three and change” finish time, Scott? That’s your Chicago story?!? I don’t normally obsess about finish times, being content with the joy of being fit and sharing some miles with fellow warriors. But ever since I put in the training blocks for Ironman 70.3 Worlds this year, this demon voice in my head just wants to find reasons to DIG HARD and hit a number. “Why the f* are we here, Dunlap? Why the f’ing f* do we train so hard?!?”. That voice is super loud these days (and always crude), and even worse, she is 100% correct - I had not gone sub-3 since Boston in 2018, and I knew I was fit enough to do it. I just had to want it, and want it enough to clock my fastest half marathon in years RIGHT F’ING NOW. Alrighty then, let’s ball. ;-)
As I picked up the pace to something uncomfortably fast, I caught up to semi-famous trail runner/marathoner Chris “Jonesie” Jones, and we got a quick photo. That guy is everywhere! And he’s always smiling, always fast, and never has an excuse (even after running an ultra in Afghanistan while on deployment). Exactly the boost I needed. No excuses allowed.
The following miles became a lactic-infused blur. The fragrant aromas of Chinatown, the boisterous crowds of little Italy, the vibrant murals of Bronzeville depicting legends like Louis Armstrong, all shaping the unique culture of this city. A few blocks of charity booths went by, each packed with loud and proud supporters building something great from nothing. The famous Chicago fire brought the entire city to its knees in 1871, and it came out of it bigger and stronger. I couldn’t ask for a better analogy as my muscles burned with each stride.
As Lake Michigan came back in sight (mile 23), it was one final stretch back up to the towering skyline of downtown. I couldn’t do the math in my head, but it felt like I was close to 3 hours, and my turnover was still good. Quads were twitching, intestines knotted, tunnel vision creeping at my peripheral…yeeesss, said the demon voice in my head, yeeessss. Honor the gift. Honor the sacrifice. But also, look for a port-o-pottie as soon as you cross the finish. ;-)
With one final small hill and a left turn, I saw the finish line and could make out a 2:5X on the clock, and put the hammer down. I got there in 2:59:15, clocking a solid 1:27 on the back half. Yup, still got it! And apparently I wasn’t the only one - many around me had set PR’s, including Kelvin Kiptum, who ran an amazing 2:00:25 to break the marathon world record. Just three weeks ago, I had watched Tigst Assefa (an adidas athlete!) break the women’s marathon world record in 2:11:53. Such a gift to be able to dig deep and find your best, and in their cases, THE BEST EVER.
As I grabbed my medals and headed to the tents, my heart swelled with a sense of accomplishment, not just for the physical feat but for having journeyed through a city that’s much more than just a place. It’s a living, breathing chronicle of dreams, struggles, and victories. The Chicago Marathon captures this well, a celebration of the human spirit, and a tribute to a city that has mastered the art of rising, again and again, stronger and more vibrant. I’m proud to call Chicago my birthplace, having now lived a few additional precious hours to give it a proper perspective. And now I’ll hustle right out again, as I did the first time, hopefully without a dumpster fire this time. ;-)
- Scott
[Writers note - I hope this finds you all well, and enjoying some downtime for the holidays. As I sit on the plane, heading to see family in California, I finally got a few hours to do some personal writing and get this memory into prose. My apologies that it is late, but then again, it was nice to have it stewing in my head for so many long runs and rides. Writing is a “sometimes fun” thing for me now (I always think of Sesame Street’s Cookie Monster explaining to kids that cookies are a “sometimes food” when I say this), far less than previous years. But do know it is a critical ingredient in a healthy cauldron of family, challenging work, endurance sports, travel, music, and love that keeps me grateful, often exhausted, and always looking forward to tomorrow. I hope to see you on the trails or roads sometime soon! Cheers, and happy new year!]
Amazing as always. That is a crazy negative split, and huge congrats on getting under 3. I love the pain face pic of you with your eyes closed, and also, how cool to meet up with Jonesie.
So sad to hear of Kelvin Kiptum's passing at age 24, just a few months after setting the world record at Chicago. A legend lost. 😞