Hitting The Ground Running

A couple of weekends ago, the Handfelt Hacienda was descended upon by one of our sets of parents (they number in the dozens) in anticipation of the Chicago Marathon. My graying yet noble father, Bernie and my not graying but no less noble stepmom Chris arrived on Friday the 10th, ready to take the Windy City by storm and instill some much needed Midwestern values (and carbs) into our elitist, city slicker lifestyle.

Chris had spent the last few months preparing to run the Chicago Marathon. On Sunday, she'd be joined by 46,000 of her closest friends in running a scant 26.2 miles, through seemingly every neighborhood in Chicago. Since I charter a private helicopter any time I have to travel farther than 2 blocks, the mere thought of traveling 26 miles on foot (and running to boot!) sends chills up my spine and has me reaching for an adult diaper.

But first things first. It was time to do what the Handfelts do best. Eat. On Friday, after giving Bernie and Chris the nickel and dime tour of the apartment, we got gussied up and headed down to the fancy pants restaurant Table 52. Helmed by Oprah's old personal chef, Art Smith, it's a pretty tough table to get, but I'm a powerful and attractive man who gets what he wants. Ok, that's a lie. I actually booked our reservation over 2 months in advance.

Judging by the food, Art Smith must have cooked for Oprah back in the 'fat Oprah' era. Southern comfort food with a fancy twist. Goat cheese biscuits (think Cheddar Bay Biscuits at Red Lobster, but classier) and deviled eggs were brought to the table to start. In my head, I raised the roof. I ordered the catfish, served with cheese grits and hush puppies. Very good; not too 'fishy' like catfish sometimes is. Bernie and Katy got the Parmesan crusted chicken and Chris got the jambalaya. All of it was very good. Oprah was no where to be seen. Date night with Stedman perhaps.

We got home pretty late and watched the late night talk shows for a while. I think that's the first time that Bernie has been up late enough to watch The Tonight Show since Jack Paar was the host.

Saturday was a day to lay low. But not before heading down to McCormick Place to pick up Chris' packet and check out Grant Park to get a lay of the land for Sunday. McCormick Place, I curse the day you were born. It only took us about 15 minutes to get down there, but a solid hour to find parking. This was the second time that McCormick Place has wrecked our lives, the first time being when my less handsome brother Cory tried to navigate Dad and me through there after a Bears game. McCormick Place has been taken off my Christmas Card list and added to Bernie's dreaded 'shit list' instead. Once we parked, we picked up Chris' stuff and walked around sampling some of the various vendors (You think you know Powerbars? You don't even know man!) and soaking it all in.

After that we came back to the hood and gave B&C the tour of our 'Main Street', which is a four block area of Clark Street lined with shops and restaurants. We stopped at our favorite furniture place, Urban Nest and all of us ended up buying lamps. Because what is a man without a good woman and a stylish lamp?

Next up was some professional carb loading. Chris made her famous spaghetti and meatballs, served with salad and french bread. We all loaded up on carbs, the difference being that Chris actually worked them off. I store them for winter like a fat, happy bear.

A stuffed gut makes a happy boy. We all went to bed early in preparation of the big day ahead. We woke up at the butt-crack of dawn and headed downtown on Lake Shore Drive, the sun just beginning to creep over Lake Michigan. We dropped Chris off on Michigan Avenue and watched her disappear into a crowd of people, all headed to the starting line. Parking the car near the Four Seasons, we killed some time before heading down to stake out our first spot to catch Chris, right downtown near Grand and Rush.

Within 3 minutes of getting to our spot, we saw Chris run by (and she saw us; we were lucky to see each other at all 5 spots we stopped). This was still only Mile 3, so all of the runners were still bunched pretty close together and the energy level was very high.

Walking a few blocks over (which was a few miles away for the runners), we set up camp again, and within about 10 minutes saw Chris run by again, going strong . She was preceded by a leprechaun and a gaggle of fools dressed like Batman, The Joker and Wonderwoman. Still no sign of Oprah.

By this time, we had mapped out our viewing route and we knew that we had some time before we'd see Chris again, around Mile 13. Watching other people push their bodies to the limit had really built up our appetites, so we headed via train down to Greektown, near Katy's work and ate breakfast at Meli Cafe. Very crowded, very Greek, very good. After that, we found a good spot in the shade and waited for Chris.

It was here that swear I saw former Columbus High School tight end and fellow Cubs enthusiast Eric Peters run by, but that can't be confirmed. It was also here that we first started to notice the toll that the race was taking on people. One younger woman came off the street to meet her husband and was in tears, unable to run anymore. It was getting hot out and things had moved from the 'nice jog' phase to the 'oh crap' phase. My dad looked concerned. After a few minutes though, we saw Chris come over the hill and head our way. Video documentation, courtesy of technology and magic can be found below.


Seeing Chris at Mile 13

We then walked over a couple of blocks and set up shop at Mile 17, a non-descript stretch of land that may have been swampland at one point. This is pure speculation on my point with no real grain of truth. I noticed that the runners were starting to hit a wall at this points, since it was past the half way mark, yet still not really close to the end. As you can see below, Dad and Katy also began to hit a wall. Watching a race is hard work.

Hey Katy, you know where I can find a good pair of slippers?

Chris at Mile 17. I once ran 17 miles in a calender year.

Hopping on the bus and then the Red Line train, we made our way down to Chinatown for the next stop, right at Mile 21. Chinatown was a trip. Loud music, dragon parade-thingys (technical term) and an unusual number of Chinese restaurants made for a viewing treat. Chris ran by us again, and I don't think she was expecting to see us there. All things considered, after 20+ miles, she looked to be in great shape.

Off to the home-stretch back near Grant Park. The final mile, much to the chagrin of all the runners is up a hill (those bastards!), and we set up shop halfway up said hill, about one third of a mile away from the finish line. Talk about inspiring. This was the final stretch. This is where the runners, their legs like sandbags filled with lead, strap it on for the final push.

We saw one woman go to the crowd and carry her kid, who had cancer to the finish. Damn. The crowd cheering everyone on and it was truly something amazing and special to see. I'm searching for words that sound poetic and don't read like the script to a Gatorade commerical, but I'm at a loss. It would be understating things to say that it was merely impressive. Soon enough, Chris came around the bend and headed to the finish line. She's on the far right in the video below. After 5 hours and 37 minutes, victory was at hand.

We met up with Chris at the Runner Reunite, where hugs were exchanged and then headed to the Four Seasons Hotel. To the victor go the spoils. We celebrated with champagne (put the good stuff on ice, Balatore be damned!) and chocolate covered strawberries. After what I imagine was the most refreshing shower of Chris' life, we went down to the Four Seasons Cafe for a celebratory dinner. Bernie had a expensive wagyzu beef hamburger (the guy in those Miller Hi Life commercials would not approve) which he proclaimed to be the 'best ever', a heady statement coming from a lifelong Iowan. Our fearless runner had the same, while Katy got the steak frites salad and me, my appetite ruined by a nail-biting Arizona Cardinals victory, settled on the decidedly girly but good Cobb Salad.

All in all, it was a great weekend a once in a lifetime experience. We are so proud of Chris for doing something so courageous. Watching those runners all push themselves to the limit was a trip and truly inspiring. For the next couple of days, I was even motivated to think about starting a regular exercise regimen. Will I actually follow though? This is debatable and I'm leaning towards 'no', but thats neither here nor there. The fact is that Chris did it and we're related to her. So that makes us all winners by association. Well played Chris.