A runner is a special kind of athlete. Running is a solitary sport, can be undertaken almost anywhere, and requires little in the way of equipment. It is as mental as it is physical. And its rewards are measured in seconds.
Never having been a runner, I know precious little about what it takes. So I didn’t quite grasp what to expect when I learned that the 2010 North Shore Half Marathon would pass right outside my front door. My wife, however, has been a runner (and perhaps will be again), and was excited to have such a prime spot to witness the race first-hand.
The Half Marathon, which took place on June 13, attracted over 2000 runners on a foggy Sunday morning, running a course that twisted and turned through the entire length of Highland Park. Signs were posted around the neighborhood a week in advance, indicating the course route and its early 7 AM start. The roads in the neighborhood weren’t closed, there were no sponsor banners along the sidewalks, and in fact there was almost nothing that gave away the race in advance.
My wife correctly anticipated that we should see some of the front-runners coming by the house about 50 minutes into the race. She was right, though the initial presence was somewhat surprising. If it weren’t for the fact that the first runner had a bib number clipped to his shirt, it would have simply looked like someone out for a morning workout. In fact, the race winner, 22-year-old Patrick Austin, finished more than three minutes ahead of the 2nd place runner. Only nine additional runners finished in the next five minutes. These runners were pacing under six minutes a mile, but as they were so far ahead of the pack, it was hard to get a race “feel” with their presence in the neighborhood.
Eventually, a trickle turned into a stream, and hundreds and then thousands of runners burst through the opening in the Water Tower at Fort Sheridan and onto our street. My daughters, wife, and I set up on our front steps to cheer on the marathoners. We even found a vevuzula and some pom-poms to add some sound and color; the racers, in turn, shouted back words of gratitude and smiles.
As a technologist, I love the setup of the racing company, RAM Racing. They posted a course preview video on the web in advance of the race; it even showed the hills of the entry/exit to the Central Avenue lakefront and every other twist and turn. Every runner had a chip tracking their pace and time; a computer program takes the results of those thousands of chips and assembles them into a post-race visualization of every step of the way. The race results show that runners came from all over the North Shore, Chicago, and from as far away as Arizona. Whether they finished in 90 minutes or 3 hours, the race results are proudly displayed for the world to see.
In my neighborhood, the main pack of runners continued to pass through for a good hour or more. Many of my neighbors were also out on the sidewalk, cheering on strangers as they approached mile marker nine. The Half Marathon had no lasting physical impact on our homes, but the spirit of the race seemed manifest in our voices and our eyes. While few of us individually had the strength and stamina to run thirteen straight miles, we certainly knew how to appreciate those who can and do.
