I finished at about 10:45am, which became a new start clock for me. Why? Because I needed to make sure I got back to the hostel, showered, changed, and got to the airport in time to catch my flight. As my flight was scheduled for 3:40pm, I wasn't overly worried. But, still, given how my toes were screaming at me, I didn't know how fast I was going to be moving. So, having gotten through the post-race area, picked up the medal, space blanket, and food/drink, I was off.
It felt like a really long walk. No longer than it was in the morning when I walked to the start line, but it certainly took a lot longer. But absolutely everyone that I passed (the vast majority of whom were on their way to the family reunion area post-finish) congratulated me on my finish. Absolutely great having all that extra validation for the effort.
I finally get to the corner by my hotel, and wonder how am I going to cross the road? After all, there was a HUGE number of people still on course at that point. (Remember, it's around Mile 12 of the course.) There weren't really any gaps to exploit. So, I do the only thing I can do, jump in with the flow of the runners to shift to the other side of the road, then double-back on the sidewalk to get to the entryway.
I take out the fob and enter. Ugh. There are the stairs. I have three full flights of stairs to walk up. And that's not the worst part of it. I will then have three flights of stairs to walk DOWN. WITH all of my baggage that I need to schlep to the airport and Boston. Sigh.
I finally make it up to the room. Carefully take off my sneakers and socks. Methodically take off the rest of my clothing and get them into plastic bags. Wrap the towel 'round my waist and off to the shower. (It's a hostel. So the bathrooms/showers are shared, not in the private rooms.) Definitely feel a bit more human, but disappointed that I don't have a tub to soak in to help my legs and feet out. Meh, I'll make sure I have that in Boston.
Get back in the room, get dressed, and finish up the last bit of packing that I hadn't done yesterday to set myself up for a quick departure. Off I go. Downstairs. Three. Flights. One. Step. At a time.
The owner was really lax about the check-out time. I had moved it originally from 11am to noon, but now it was approaching 12:30pm. No hassles. One thing he asked of me, that he had upon check-out: Please make sure to autograph one of the marathon posters in the other room. I gladly oblige with name, state, and time.
Back onto the sidewalk, where throngs of runners are still flowing by. I stand there for a few minutes with the medal hanging around my neck, cheering them on, and telling them that the bling is worth the pain (or some variant). But the clock is still ticking. And where I really like being able to get back to a race course after I finish to cheer on the runners, I just didn't want to take the chance of lingering too long and something getting messed up. So, I trek back to the L station (just a block away), and get stopped by a police officer right after I throw away an empty water bottle in the recycling bin just outside the entrance to the station.
We chat for about 5-10 minutes. He's contemplating getting into running and asking me all sorts of questions. I tell him about starting off small with C25k (couch to 5k, for the uninitiated reading along), then slowly tackling longer races as he works up his stamina and speed before signing up for a marathon. I tell him the different ways to get into the Chicago Marathon and, during the course of conversation, wind up mentioning that I'm on my way to Boston to run that the next day. Yes, having just finished Chicago. He wishes me well, and off I go, into the station and onto the L back to O'Hare.
Getting from the L station all the way to the actual terminal in O'Hare is a huge trek. (Watch, someone will come back and say it's not even 0.25 miles.) Loaded down with luggage and feet hurting (despite being in comfortable wool socks and looser sneakers), it seems interminable. But I get there. and, per my plan prior to the weekend, after I get through Security, I immediately get lunch: a torta and tortilla chips from Torta Frontera. While I would have preferred to get a burrito (to have the rice and beans, too), this was quite satisfying.
Eventually make my way to the gate, we board, and we're wheels up. And at least 20-25 people on the flight are also obviously going to Boston to complete this once-in-a-lifetime double. And I can relax, having managed the first several legs of this journey, safe in the knowledge that I will be arriving in Boston Sunday evening, already having my bib in my backpack, not having to worry about getting to the expo. Now all I have to worry about are these toes...
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