Building a Stage for Others to Perform On: 10 Lessons from Mike Nishi

Mike has a phrase he comes back to again and again — and it's the one that frames everything else he does. He doesn't see his job as organizing a race. He sees it as building a stage for other people to perform on. The runners are the performers. His job is to make sure the stage is worthy of the moment they've worked months to reach.

That framing changes everything about how you approach every decision. The finish line experience, the expo, the start corrals, the volunteer program — all of it exists to serve the performer, not the production company. When you internalize that, the priorities become clear.

Mike's journey with Chicago is a masterclass in sequencing. For the first decade, the focus was almost entirely operational — curb to curb. Getting the product right. Producing an event that could sell itself through word of mouth and consistent quality. Only once that foundation was rock solid did the team turn their attention to experience enhancements, community impact, and sustainability.

He applies the same philosophy today. Before rolling out new innovations at the marathon, Chicago tests them at the Shamrock Shuffle or the Chicago 13.1. Pressure test at smaller scale. Prove it works. Then reveal it on the biggest stage.

The Race Management Program Summit started 17 years ago with six people around a table sharing best practices. It's now 190 industry leaders. That growth didn't happen because Chicago guarded what they knew. It happened because Mike and his team gave it away — openly, generously, every year.

This philosophy — the open playbook — is at the core of how Mike operates. He would rather the whole industry get better faster than Chicago maintain a competitive edge. Because a stronger industry means a safer, more vibrant ecosystem for everyone.

When Mike talks about inclusivity, he makes a point most race directors miss: it's not just about who is on the start line. It's about who is in the workforce. Who is on the volunteer team. Who is on the staff. Because when people from underrepresented communities see themselves in those roles — as volunteers, as staff, as participants — it becomes possible for others to imagine themselves there too.

Chicago has been working with run clubs to identify individuals in underserved communities who want access to the event but face cost barriers. They've built programs for neurodivergent athletes through initiatives like Runner 3,2,1. And they're tracking diversity not just in participant registration but across their entire workforce.

The Bank of America Chicago 13.1 — now four years old — was deliberately placed on the west side of Chicago. Not in Grant Park. Not on familiar downtown territory. On the west side, in a community that always has to travel somewhere else to access things. Mike wanted to bring the event to them.

That distinction — with them, not to them — is everything. It's the difference between a race that extracts from a community and one that genuinely invests in it. Chicago has now seen that community begin to show up. First as spectators, then as volunteers, then as participants. The pipeline is real. It just takes time and genuine intention.

Chicago has raised over $30 million through its charity program — an extraordinary number. But Mike isn't satisfied. He has a longer-term vision: what if every single participant was giving something, even $5? Not because they have to, but because the culture of the event made it feel strange not to.

He described the moment he's aiming for — where a runner turns to the person next to them at the start line and asks, "Who are you running for?" And if that person can't answer, they feel a gentle pull to have an answer next time. That cultural shift, he believes, is possible. It just requires planting the seeds now and letting them compound over decades.

Chicago recently earned the Evergreen Inspire certification from the Council for Responsible Sport — the first marathon to do so. It took over a decade of sustained effort. And Mike's most important lesson from that journey was about prioritization, not ambition.

His early mistake: feeling like a single initiative wasn't significant enough. Like any one thing was just a drop in the ocean. So he tried to do too many things at once. The pivot: narrow down to one or two initiatives. Do them exceptionally well. Then the following year, add two more. Stack the wins. Let the compounding do its work.

Mike's vision for technology isn't about efficiency — it's about making every participant feel uniquely seen. Chicago has already moved from basic timing displays to personalized finish line moments: a photo, a time, and a favorite song choice playing as you cross. That's just the beginning.

He sees AI-powered coaching as the next major unlock for the sport — not just training plans, but truly customized programs that know your work schedule, your current fitness baseline, your recovery data from wearables, and adjust in real time. Not the static spreadsheet training plan. Something that actually knows you.

When asked for his single most important leadership lesson from 35 years in the industry, Mike didn't hesitate. From day one — from the years when he was moving portable toilets in the middle of the night on Lake Shore Drive — his rule has been absolute: I will only ask you to do something I am willing to do myself.

That means pushing barricades. That means babysitting a world record holder's kids so he can run. That means showing up as a volunteer at other events and doing the dirty work alongside your team. Leading by example isn't a philosophy for Mike. It's a daily practice.

Chicago turns 50 in 2028. Mike is already thinking about what tree to plant at that milestone — not just a logo or a look, but something meaningful that will outlast him and live on in the next generation of leadership. His most powerful example of this kind of long-term thinking: the Chicago 13.1 on the west side.

He also talked about youth programming as the most important gap in Chicago's current strategy. They don't have enough of it. And that gap, left unfilled, will show up in participation numbers 20 years from now. The seeds you don't plant today are the forests you won't have tomorrow.