42km Run – Temperature 25°C
Finish Time: 03:09:46
10k split: 00:44:28
Half marathon: 01:34:03
30k split: 02:14:03
MV60 Age Group: 28th
Overall: 6053rd
Chicago wasn’t supposed to be the A-race. The whole season was built around Berlin: Tokyo to rebuild, Riga to confirm, Berlin to peak and finally go under 3:10 for qualification into the 2026 Age Group World Championships. Chicago was meant to be a 3:20 jog to close the season without going too deep.
But Berlin didn’t deliver what the training promised, and that turned Chicago into something else entirely. It became the last chance to execute the plan.
After Berlin I took the first week easy to absorb the race and let the legs settle, but in the second week — where I’d planned to get some volume and tempo back into the body — I pulled a hamstring. That wrote the whole week off. No speed work, no confidence-building long tempos, just rehab and hoping it didn’t get worse. In an ideal world I’d have run two or three 10-mile tempo sessions to flush Berlin out of the legs and sharpen up for another go at sub-3:10. Instead it became about one thing only: getting to the start line able to run 26.2 miles without something tearing.
The forecast had offered some hope. It was meant to be a cool 15°C — a relief after Berlin — but by the time we started it was already 18°C, and it climbed to 25°C by the finish. It was hot, but only in the closing stages, unlike Berlin where the heat was there from the gun. Not ideal, but manageable.
The pacer setup helped. In Berlin there was only 3:00 or 3:15, which meant constantly doing pacing arithmetic while running. In Riga I’d tucked into the 3:15 group, and it made the execution simple. Chicago was better organised: 3:00, 3:05 and 3:10 groups. I put myself about a minute behind the 3:10 pacers so I’d have something in hand when it mattered.
The nutrition plan was supposed to mirror Riga — one gel every 30 minutes — but I lost a gel out of my pocket right at the start. That immediately kicked off the kind of pointless head-noise you don’t need in the first mile of a marathon. I switched from just taking water to using the on-course Gatorade at every aid station to make up the calories. By 25km I was starting to feel flat, and that was the warning shot. Note to self: in future, I need a caffeine hit at halfway, not after the wheels start to wobble.
By 25km I still felt in control, but it was obvious I was approaching the decision point. It was either jog it in at 3:20 and close the season frustrated, or lean in, take the risk and hurt for it. I chose to push.
At 35km I was deep into the work — one kilometre at a time. I was hanging onto the group more through willpower than ease, and the minute I’d banked at the start was being eaten away with every km.
At 40km the pacers started to edge ahead. The cushion was nearly gone. Then came the sting: a hill at 800m to go, cruel timing. By the time I turned into the final straight I knew it was on the edge. No calculation left — just instinct. I broke into a full sprint, everything screaming. I crossed in 3:09:46 — 14 seconds inside target. Nothing left.
It wasn’t clean or elegant, but it was what I’d trained for all year: sub-3:10, a qualifying time for the 2026 world champs, and confirmation that Berlin was the exception, not the rule.
The upside of ending the season properly is that I can look forward now rather than back. Boston is qualified for and already booked for 2026, and I should get a good-for-age place for Sydney. I’m also hoping to get into Comrades in June. As always, once the pain fades and the result sinks in, the mind goes hunting for the next challenge. If the body holds up, ultras will be part of that. The other question sitting there is sub-3:00. It’s a big stretch, and I don’t know if it’s realistic or delusional yet. The winter block will tell me if the speed is still there, or if I’m already close to the limit.
Sometimes it’s not about perfect execution — it’s about hanging on long enough to make the work count.
