Drew ran the Soldier Field 10 Mile again this morning, and I needed to redeem myself.
The back story: When he ran it for the first time last year, my parents met me there to watch him (and, seeing as the whole ordeal takes about three hours, to keep me company). During the final stretch of the race, the runners come through the tunnel onto Soldier Field and finish at the 50-yard line, where the spectators are waiting — pretty cool. Drew gave me his estimated finish time (8:18 a.m.), and we agreed to meet afterward at the flagpoles in front of the stadium. As the time neared, my mom had her camera set on the field, and I had mine set on the JumboTron that showed the runners crossing the finish line.
In a show of perfect timing, the JumboTron froze about four minutes before Drew’s estimated finish. We all tried to keep our eyes on the field, but by then there were groups of runners coming in at the same time. We didn’t see him… and eventually, we started to worry. Did he sprain an ankle? Get sick? (My brother had gotten heat exhaustion in Mile 22 of the Chicago Marathon the fall before, so in our defense, we had reason.) We kept waiting, and waiting, not wanting to miss him, and I developed a horrible crink in my neck from staring up at the screen once it finally went back on. Finally, we decided to head to the flagpole.
There was Drew, relieved to see us but clearly annoyed. “Did you really think I was that slow?” he said. He had finished at 8:16 a.m. and had been waiting for us for 45 minutes. Oops.
Believe me when I say that I will never live this down. In the past year alone, Drew has told the story to at least a dozen people and made countless other one-off jabs. It all turned out fine; we were able to buy an overpriced official photo of him coming through the tunnel that was far better than any I could have taken from the stands. But this year, even if I couldn’t get a good photo, I at least wanted to see him cross the finish line — especially after waiting around for three hours.
My parents were on vacation and we didn’t know anyone else who was running, so I was on my own. Drew estimated an 8:15 a.m. finish this time, so, after waiting in the covered seats to stay warm and dry, I headed down toward the field at around 8 a.m. to get as close as I could. Again, the timing was perfect: As soon as I went to get the camera ready (I figured I might as well try), the battery died on me. At that point, all I could do was laugh. After a few false alarms, I finally picked Drew out of the crowd and saw him cross the finish line. I was hoping for the high-stepping he did last year, but this time he had already put everything he had into it: Despite the strong winds on the loop back, he beat his previous time by about two minutes, averaging a 7:26 mile.
I attribute his good showing to the carb-tastic meal I made for him last night, at his request (that’s correct — instead of grilling on Memorial Day weekend, we had a winter comfort-food classic).
Before: Easy Chicken Parmesan
Chicken Parmesan
Servings: 2
1 egg white
1/3 cup Italian-seasoned bread crumbs (with freshly chopped parsley, if desired)
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, grated, divided
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
4 oz. spaghetti or fettuccine
1 cup pasta sauce
1/4 cup fresh mozzarella, shredded
1 Tbsp. fresh basil, julienned
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Set up two shallow bowls. In one, beat egg until slightly frothy; in second, mix breadcrumbs and 2 Tbsp. grated Parmesan. Dip chicken breasts in egg whites and then in breadcrumb mixture, coating both sides.
Lightly coat a baking sheet with cooking spray. Place chicken breasts on sheet and bake for 12 minutes, then flip over and bake for an additional 10 minutes. Sprinkle mozzarella and the rest of the Parmesan over the chicken, and bake 2 minutes more or until cheese is melted and chicken is no longer pink in the middle.
While chicken is baking, prepare pasta according to its package instructions, and warm the pasta sauce in a small saucepan. Divide pasta between two plates and top with chicken, sauce, basil and any remaining cheese.
The Chicken Parm was a great pre-game meal, but Drew’s post-race request was to go to Twisted Spoke (501 N. Ogden), one of our favorite breakfast places and home of the world’s best fried-egg sandwich: two runny, over-easy eggs, cheese, bacon, lettuce, tomato, onion and mayo on soft pumpernickel bread. In other words, perfection on a plate. The only thing that could make it better? A spicy Bloody Mary with a garnish of salami, olive, pepperocini, cocktail onion and Parmesan — basically a meal in itself.
Bloody Mary meal at Twisted Spoke
Fried-egg sandwich at Twisted Spoke
It was a great way to celebrate, but I’m clearly going to have to start running more than my three measly miles to keep up.
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