My alarm went off at 4:25 AM. I hit the snooze button twice before finally getting up at 4:45, as I am not a morning person. Fortunately, I had set everything out that I needed the night before: shoes, clothes, sunglasses, sunscreen, cell phone, and a cat ears headband I received because I was running for a charity, the Tree House Animal Foundation. Knowing it was going to be a hot day, I also had my fuel belt complete with 4 8-oz bottles of water and a pouch filled with 18 ShotBlocks for carbohydrate and electrolyte refueling throughout the race. I enjoyed what some may consider an unusual breakfast (a granola bar and a can of Coke; I wanted the caffeine but coffee and tea can be brutal on my stomach), turned myself into a human Slip ‘n’ Slide by applying Body Glide everywhere, checked to make sure I had everything I needed, and headed out at 5:35 for the L. About 90% of the people on the L that morning were either runners or supporters.

I arrived at the Chicago Area Runners Association (CARA) tent around 6:45 AM, where I checked in my gear, used the bathroom, picked up a bottle of water, and met up with my friends from the training program. Around 7:30 we headed out to the starting corral, lining up near the 4 hour, 45 minute pacers. The slow walk to the start line after the gun sounded was an experience akin to riding up the hill of a roller coaster, as we were all filled with nervous anticipation. I took a couple of photos of the crowd and the city with my phone as we were waiting to cross the starting line.

Coming to the first aid station, we did what we were told to do in the training program and went to the left side of the street, as it is usually less crowded. We were surprised to see that not only was there no more Gatorade or water left, but the tables had already been packed up and put away! This was already worrisome; although I am by no means a fast runner, I also was certainly not at the back of the pack, and yet the tables had already run out! Navigating the crowd to the right side of the road, we found a couple of tables with water, but no more Gatorade. I decided to take a sip of the water I brought with me and continue to the next statioin. In all the confusion, I lost the group I was running with, never to see them again in the course of the race.

Aid station number two was worse than the first. Not only was there no Gatorade, but no water either! I was very glad that I brought some of my own water, but starting to get more nervous. 32 oz would not be enough to last more than a few miles in this kind of weather, and I had not brought any Gatorade with me. Sure enough, station number three had very little water and no Gatorade as well, and I saw many runners running off of the road to drink out of a park fountain.

Around mile 7 I was already starting to feel abnormally fatigued. Up until that point I had been able to keep up with the 4:45 pace group, but I soon realized that pace just wouldn’t be sustainable for the rest of the race. I took a brief walking break before turning the corner at Addison, knowing I had friends and family waiting to see me and I didn’t want to look like I was struggling.

At the fourth aid station around mile 8.5, I was finally able to find Gatorade! However, the station was running short on cups. I wound up giving my cup to another runner after drinking, and she seemed greatful. I continued south down Broadway, feeling temporarily refreshed.

The next few miles were a blur. I think the heat was really affecting me at that point, and I was starting to wonder if I could make the whole distance. I didn’t feel like I should be so exausted after only 9, 10, 11, 12 miles of running! I wound up taking frequent walking breaks. In my training, I only took walking breaks when going through the aid stations, but I realized the only way to get through this heat was to walk part of the race.

By around the halfway point, I was growing despondent. I had trained diligently all summer, I came prepared with water and ShotBlocks, I ate a low-fat, high carbohydrate diet, and yet I was seriously questioning my ability to continue the race. I saw the 5 hour pacers pass me by, then the 5:15 pacers. Part of me became angry with myself, “why can’t you keep up with the 4:45 pace group?” even though I knew that in the heat and humidity (and lack of fluids) that there was simply no way I would be able to run at my usual pace. I found myself walking more and more.

It was at this point when I noticed that people around me were dropping like flies. I saw people sitting on the curbs on either side of the street, even a few collapsed in the middle of the road! It seemed there was a constant wail of sirens, paramedics everywhere. To make matters worse, I came across more undersupplied stations; some had no Gatorade, others had no water, others no cups. Runners around me started to get somewhat belligerent with the volunteers. I felt so bad for the volunteers; I knew it wasn’t their fault they had run out of supplies but everyone around me was clearly frustrated, dehydrated, panicking. People stopped in front of garden hoses with their mouths open to get water. My own supply was long gone, and I was feeling completely spent. My body was begging me to stop, my heart wanted me to continue, even speed up; my mind decided walking was the best option and so I continued, slowly.

Finally, around mile 17.5, I came upon the PowerGel aid station. Unlike the previous few stations, this one was fully equipped with water, Gatorade, and the gel. I hadn’t plan to take any gel, instead relying on my ShotBlocks, but that point I was desperate for anything that might help me get through the race. I ignored what I was told during the CARA program about not using anything not used during training and took a chocalate Gel with caffeine. It tasted disgusting. I’m not sure if it was the caffeine or if it was purely psychological, but I felt like Popeye after eating a can of spinach: a sudden burst of strentgh and energy. My confidence resurged and I began running again, knowing I would make it the rest of the way.

Unfortunately, I only got about a mile further when the rumors started flying. “The race is cancelled,” I heard people say. Everyone was confused. I called my boyfriend and asked him to look online and see if there was any validity to these rumors. Five minutes later, I got a text message, “Just announced: Marathon ‘cut short’.” I really didn’t know what to do at this point. I was at mile 19, Ashland and 18th street, rather far from the finish line. The police were saying, “stop running,” but it was unclear exactly what we were supposed to do. Walk the rest of the course? Walk back to the finish line? Someone said something about shuttle busses, but that was also unclear. I assumed that I would continue, walking most of the rest of the way. I called my parents, who were waiting to cheer me on around mile 21, and asked them to get me water.

By the time I got to mile 21, we were all still walking, still confused. I ran into my parents, and because I didn’t know if the race was still being timed or not, I decided to stand and talk to them for a few minutes. I told them what was going on, they gave me two bottles of water, we posed for a picture, and I was back on my way.

I was able to complete the event, but I also wound up walking most of the next four miles, both by police order and because my tired legs just couldn’t take it anymore. By the time I got to mile 25, I decided to run the rest of the way, as did many of the people around me. I crossed the line at 5 hours, 50 minutes, and 48 seconds. Not exactly the 4 hours 45 minutes I expecting, but given the circumstances I was simply glad I finished. I got my medal, my photo, my beer, and my completely useless heat sheet, and was ready to call it a day.

Overall, this was definitely not what I was expecting from my first marathon experience. I don’t think anyone could have anticipated this kind of weather in Chicago in October. I later heard about the unfortunate man who died and the hundreds who had to be taken away by ambulance; honestly, given the heat and lack of fluids, I’m surprised these numbers weren’t higher. I do think that calling the race was the only prudent decision that could be made in these circumstances, but I’m very glad that many of us were allowed to complete it at walking pace. I’ve decided I definitely need to do another marathon, just to have a more normal experience. Based on the fact that the race directors seem unwilling to admit any fault with regards to the lack of available water and Gatorade, I don’t think my next one will be Chicago.