A PR with a Pulse

This weekend I completed my second World Major Marathon, my fourth endurance race, and set an 11-minute PR - but more importantly, I didn’t end up in a med tent.

Coming off the emotional rollercoaster that was my first 70.3 (and my first back-to-back training block), my only goal for Chicago was to have fun and actually enjoy the race. The last thing on my mind was a PR. I’d shambly built this shortened training block myself - with a little help from my mom and ChatGPT - so expectations were low. 

All of my races up to this point ended with me pushing my body past its limit and straight into medical attention. This time, my second goal was simple: push hard, but stay alive. I wanted to give it everything I had, but within reason. 

It was my first time in Chicago, and I’m convinced there’s no better way to get to know a city than by running 26.2 miles through its streets. The conditions were perfect the morning of the race, and for the first time, so was my mindset. Maybe that’s why everything fell into place. I slept well. My heart rate was steady. The crowds didn’t overwhelm me, they fueled me. I raced alongside one of my best friends, Charlotte, and our moms - who were college roommates - made a trip of it. Both of us PRing with them on the sidelines was unbelievably special. 

The air was crisp, the city was alive, and the energy was magnetic. I saw my crew four times and actually stopped to hug them instead of panicking about time (or a flat tire, or a lost timing chip). Somehow, that mindset led to my fastest race yet. I wasn’t that aware of my splits, but at the halfway mark I realized I was near my half marathon PR and began to register the pace I had been holding.

By mile 20, the pain had definitely set in. My legs throbbed, the sun felt heavy, and I started to feel lightheaded. In the past, I would’ve pushed harder and paid for it. This time, I slowed down, listened to my body, and trusted that I’d done enough. For the first time in a race, I felt truly present. I looked around and found inspiration everywhere - a blind guide in front of me, a quadriplegic athlete behind me, and supporters who showed up not for anyone in particular but simply to help strangers cross the finish line. Marathon day always feels bigger than you or your race, and that’s what keeps us all coming back.

Before I knew it I had reached the final half-mile, and was heading towards the finish line. I crossed the line, braced myself for the usual collapse and it never came. I was upright, lucid, and able to actually take in the finish line: the medals, the tinfoil capes, the finishers wobbling in silence - each in their own world. Thousands of stories ending and beginning at once. In that moment, I realized I had set an 11 minute PR, but that’s not what stayed with me. 

It’s easy to define a “good race” by numbers, but for me, this one was about alignment and finally trusting my limits. I’m proud of how I raced, grateful for everyone who continues to show up for me, and humbled by every runner, volunteer, and pacer who reminds me why I fell in love with this world in the first place.

Until the next start line,
Caleigh

P.S. If you’re starting your own training journey - marathon, triathlon, or anything in between - check out my training plans and the Train Payne community at TrainPayne.com.