Last Monday I and 20,348 others finished the 111th Boston Marathon. I hope you find my story about running 26.2 miles in a New England Nor’easter entertaining. Rest assured that it is completely true.
On the way to Boston we stayed 4 days with my wife’s family. The first day there something spooky happened when I went for a 4 mile run. I took a wrong turn and found myself in a desolate area, past a swamp and some seedy hotels. I finally stopped at a mini mart gas station for directions. I found two huge, middle aged women behind the counter staring at me in pure disbelief. Somehow I don’t think they see very many athletes in running shorts coming in there. Niether could help me though their eyes kept straying down to my legs. I left and just ran back the way I came. Turns out I went 8.5 miles that day which is way too far just 5 days before a marathon. Later I found out I’d run into a area where drug dealing, prostitution and violent crime is rampant. Yikes!
Those last 5 days before the race I felt really off. My left hip hurt, I was achy and my legs felt drained. Mentally I was tired as well. After that 8.5 mile “wrong turn” run I cut way back on my runs and rested as much as traveling and family obligations allowed. Our last night with the in-laws I made everybody dinner of spaghetti, salad, bread and carrot cake. It was 3 days before the race and from then on I saturated my body with carbohydrates which meant never letting myself feel hungry but not gourging.
We flew into Boston on Saturday the 14th, rented a car and drove to the Dedham Hilton 10 miles outside of town. It’s in a good area with a commuter train station in walking distance. The $75 rate was better than the $275 per night I would have paid to stay downtown. We ate pasta twice at “Vinny T’s” and I strongly recommend it.
Sunday morning we drove to Quincy and took the “Red” then “Green" subway lines to Copley Square. My wife and I did the 2 ½ mile “Freedom Run”, a non-competitive trot through historic parts of Boston that ends at the marathon finish line. Adidas and the Boston Athletic Assn put it on and it was great. Lots of the international runners took part. We were given tee shirts and breakfast afterwards. For me, that was the real start of my Boston Marathon experience. We walked over to the finish line on Boylston Street and took our pictures. I reached down and touched it and said to myself, “You have to work so hard to get here”. When I stood up I realized there were tears in my eyes. We then walked to the Convention Center, picked up my race number and went to the race expo. When they shake your hand and give you that number it’ll take your breath away for a moment, too.
In all my years of running, I swore I wouldn’t be caught dead in tights. But with the forecast calling for temps in the 30’s, freezing rain and 50 mph headwinds, hypothermia and frostbite were real dangers. I reluctantly bought a plain black pair of tights at the expo.
Back at the hotel, I got my race gear set and I got off my feet. I was in bed trying to sleep by 7:30 p.m. with the sound of howling wind and sheets of rain against the window.
At 5:00 a.m. race morning my wife dropped me off at the subway. Wind and rain came down hard as the train rolled through a very drab East Boston. I got off at the Boston Common where the runners are loaded onto buses for the ride out to the start at Hopkinton. As I walked up the subway stairs I realized that something magical had happened. For the first time in over a week, my legs felt strong. No aches, no pain, just strong and full of run. I told myself, “You’re going to be fine today”. I later learned that one of my sister-in-laws who is very religious had been watching the weather reports and included me in her prayers that morning that I’d be safe and run well. Apparently her call got through cause I felt really good.
My bus was packed with talkative, nervous runners. It was still real windy and raining hard. Our driver unwittingly gave us a gift by getting lost three times which meant that we were on that warm, dry bus for an extra 90 minutes instead of out in the rain at the start. Maybe my sister-in-law really does have a direct line to the big guy upstairs.
The runner’s holding area at the start was a waterlogged mess. I tried to keep my feet from getting too soaked. I ate 1,000 calorie-dense carbohydrates (two raisin bagels with a thick blend of honey and peanut butter) along with coffee and Gatorade. Despite the conditions the Boston Athletic Assn did an amazing job of taking care of us and putting on a safe, well run race. If any of the volunteers read this, thank you all once again. You’re the very best!
Local TV said it was the worst storm, called a “Nor’easter” in 14 years. A live power line went down on the racecourse an just hour before the start. The wind blew over some porta-johns and brought down branches. I learned later that the race director didn’t decide it was safe enough for the race to go on until 4:00 a.m. that morning. They came pretty close to canceling it for the first time in 111 years.
At 9:20 a.m. the first 10,000 of us were told to head to the start. I got down to my racing clothes and put on a garbage bag to stop some of the rain. It felt kind of dreamlike it was so special. I found my corral and took care of my usual pre-race details. I had a heightened sense of everything going on around me but felt very calm, peaceful and focused. I was absolutely ready to run. My confidence was warranted since I’d run that long and fast in training. More importantly, I knew how badly it was going to hurt in the last 10 miles to run my best time. Long ago I had decided I was going to pay that price. No doubts. No regrets.
An excellent baritone sang the national anthem, then at exactly 10:00 a.m. the gun went off. It took 5 ½ minutes to cross the start line and a full mile before I could run my 7:30 per mile pace. I felt good with deep reserves of energy. My legs quickly found the light, fast rythem I have on days when my body and mind are really ready to roll. My breathing - 1 breath every 4 steps – was easy and smooth. I’d drank 8 oz of Gatorade just before the start and had two 4 oz bottles with me so I didn’t need water stations until mile 7 which saved time.
It quickly became clear that lots of folks ahead of me weren’t intending to run as fast as I was. I thought, “How did all these people get seeded ahead of me?” Passing takes energy but I didn’t go there to run 9 minute miles so I began to gently weave my way through the field.
The patches of heavy rain and strong headwinds were tough but it was invaluable to have faced those conditions in training. Unavoidable puddles soaked my shoes again and again. I saw a several runners slip and hit the road hard. But the miles clicked off and I got to halfway in good shape. The key on a course with rolling hills like Boston is to run an even effort. That way you avoid the pitfall of oxygen debt but you really have to be used to listening to your breathing and heart rate.
From miles 13 to 15 I had a “sidestitch” (a stabbing pain in my right ribcage). The trick to overcoming them is to exhale when your left foot strikes the ground and, honestly, to gut it out and not slow down. At mile 15 before the hills I ate an ounce of pure honey I’d brought and washed it down with water. The famous hills that start at mile 16 and end with “Heartbreak Hill” in mile 21 were hard but repeated training runs on longer, steeper hills after going 16 miles had prepared me well. I missed the mile 17 marker and was energized when I unexpectedly passed mile 18. Mile 21 with heartbreak hill was my slowest which took 8:30 to cover. With the hills behind me I gathered myself for the last 5 ½ miles into Boston which include lots of downhills if you’re not too beat up by then to take advantage of them. I ran steady and passed lots of people in those last miles. I had severe waves of pain in my lower stomach that lasted several minutes during each mile. At times the pain was brutal.
The images of the last miles are vivid: The far way Prudential building, Boston College, Fenway park, the gigantic CITGO sign and, of course the amazing, roaring crowds. I can’t really convey what it takes to drive yourself for 3 or 4 miles when with every step your legs are screaming for you to slow down. I remember passing the yellow sign saying “1 mile to go” and though I was really hurting, I told myself, “Push, pass as many of them as you can”. I ran the last uphill on Herford Street then made that final, magical left turn onto Boylston Street and could see the finish. I ran that corner hard and didn’t let up that entire last third of a mile. The finish line I’d touched so wistfully the day before came up fast and then, just like that, it was over. I finished in under 3 hours, 25 minutes, passed more than 3,500 people and finished in the top 10% in my age group. I was wobbly for a minute and then a wave of wicked stomach pain came over me. One of the medical staff steadied me and opened up the barricade so I could get to a porta-john. He waited until I returned a few minutes later feeling 100% better. I thanked him and kept walking, feeling very fulfilled. I savored every moment, congratulating other finishers and thanking the volunteers. I got water, my finishers medal (in exchange for the timing chip on my shoe), a space blanket and some food. While waiting to get my clothes bag I started to feel very, very cold in the wind and rain. At the family reunion area, I found my wife and put on a dry sweatshirt and jacket. She’d gotten text messages from the race computers as I went down the course so she was expecting me. We made it to the Back Bay station with time to spare to make the 2:50 train back to the Hotel. I’d protected myself everywhere with vaseline before the race but when I took my shower I painfully found out that those d**n tights had rubbed me so raw I was bleeding. You’ll have to use your imagination as to where.
At this moment, five days later my hips, legs and elsewhere are still pretty beat up but getting better every day. I’ve been eating like a pig and will probably continue that for another day or two. I’ll resume easy running in the next couple of days but I won’t be fully recovered for at least 6 weeks. I’m already qualified for Boston in 2008 based on either the time I ran this week or in Tucson last December. I’m not sure if I’ll be back at Boston next year or what race I’ll do in between. There’ll be plenty of time to set those goals. I still want to enjoy the glow of this one.
I realize that most Americans will never run 5 miles, let alone 26.2 miles at the kind of pace needed to qualify for Boston. Physical disease, lifestyle choices, psychological issues or other infirmities are just a few of the reasons that make meaningful exercise impossible for most folks today. Hopefully my story has placed at least some sense of running the Boston Marathon safely within their reach.
I want to end by thanking my wife for her patience, love and support. I want to again thank the Boston Marathon volunteers. I want to congratulate Robert Cheruiyot of Kenya and Lidiya Grigoryeva of Russia, the mens and womens winners and all the other official finishers. Last, I want to honor and congratulate each finisher in the wheelchair, handcycle, visually impaired and mobility impaired divisions who are living proof that the heart of a champion comes in many packages.
