I know this one is a little late, but I’ve now had time to
process the entire experience and really think through how amazing it was to
run the Boston Marathon. I have to
admit, I did my best to downplay the significance of this race in my head for a
long time. In my mind, I was just going
to Boston to visit friends and run a race.
I actually think this kept me in a good frame of mind all the way until
I got onto the bus headed to Athletes’ Village.
One thing of note was the send-off I got from my school. I kept my running to myself and a few other teachers, but word got out and a big deal was made. As I left school Friday, I saw my name on the sign outside my school, saying "Good luck at the Boston Marathon."
The trip to Boston was uneventful, but the weekend leading
up was great. I got in runs of 3 miles
(Saturday) and 2 miles (Sunday) that felt so easy that I had to hold back when
I started running race pace…a good sign considering I had been absolutely worn
down to the point of not running less than 2 weeks before.
The real issue of the race was that I was in Boston for the
weekend, and I had good food and beer to try.
I’m not going to go into details, but I spent a lot of Saturday in breweries,
bars and restaurants…drinking equal amounts beer and water. I went to bed that night ready to start to
focus on racing the next day.
Now, I probably need to admit to a bit of griping in the
time leading up to the race. I mean, I
was out of town and I really wanted to enjoy myself, not worry about a
marathon. Then the weather reports
started getting worse…wind, cold, rain.
Great, just great. God bless Teri
and her friends for putting up with me.
Even on the way to the bus (I took the closer buses to Hopkinton, not
from downtown Boston), I was a bit moody and not really excited. I posed in the parking lot when we got to the
bus for a few obligatory photos, and I was on my way. Apparently my act wasn’t convincing because
Teri supposedly told her friends after I had left that it looked like I was
feeling better than I let on. I guess it
was time to see.
I got to the athletes’ village at about 8:10 and hung out in
the cold and rain, doing my best to stay warm until it was time to walk to the
start. In the start area, I timed my
hydration and bathroom stops perfectly, getting through the restroom line with
about 15 minutes to spare, at which point I walked to Corral 1, took off my
warmups, and waited for the start.
The gun went off at exactly 10AM, and it only took about 20
seconds to get to the start line from my position. I was worried the crowds would throw me off,
but besides an incident at about the 5k mark when I kind of got tripped up, I
didn’t have much problem navigating the course.
I followed the same plan as I did in my previous marathon, just trying
to feel relaxed as long as possible. I
was worried the first 2 miles I was running too slowly, but my easy effort was
right on pace.
I did my best to just take advantage of what the course gave
me. I opened up a bit on the downhills,
but didn’t increase effort at all. So my
downhill miles were faster, but not crazy fast.
The miles with uphills we a bit slower but also not too bad. My splits were a bit varied the first 10
miles, but overall I feel like I ran the course perfectly.
My first concern came pretty early. My left leg hadn’t been right for some time,
but had never been a serious problem while training. Today was no different. About 4 miles in, my hamstring felt tight and
my IT band started to pull on my knee.
The IT band, especially, concerned me because I had a major fear of it
flaring up so bad I wouldn’t be able to put weight on my knee. The hamstring has been a problem in every
marathon I’ve run, but I knew it probably wouldn’t be an issue until later in
the race (I was 100% right on that one).
I ran the miles from 4-6 in some worry, but going through Framingham, I
knew Teri, Nidhi and Julie would be waiting for me soon, so my mind soon wandered
as I focused on the crowds lining the streets.
Running through all the small towns, I was amazed at how
loudly the crowds cheered. And I won’t
pretend it didn’t affect me. I got
excited and really took in the cheering.
I slapped hands with kids, waved to people yelling, and hit the signs
that said “Touch Here for More Power.” I
was really enjoying it. So much so, that
when I looked left and saw my 3 favorite girls in Boston, I got probably the
goofiest smile on my face and waved like an idiot. But I couldn’t help it, I was caught up in
the energy of Boston!
After seeing Teri (and Julie and Nidhi) I knew it was going to
be a long haul. They told me they
probably wouldn’t be able to see me again until the final mile of the
race. So I was now on my own, with a
tight hamstring and an IT band threatening to derail my race. I remember hitting 10 miles and feeling like
I had been running forever…but my splits were still right on track so I didn’t
worry too much. In my mind, my goal was
to get to 13 and see just how crazy were the crowds in Wellesley.
I spent the next 2 miles just focusing on pace and keeping
aware of my left leg. But when I got
close to Wellesley, I started to hear the roar and see the crowds lining the
streets. As we got closer to the college,
I started to notice the guys around me started to speed up. I would say in the ½ mile going in front of
the students there, I probably got passed by more guys than I did the entire
rest of the race. All I did was laugh,
read the sometimes raunchy signs, and kept on pace. I did make it a point to slap hands with a
line of about 200 students lining the course, but that got old quickly so I
just kept running.
As I approached the halfway point, I was still feeling good,
and hit 13.1 in 1:22:43, just barely ahead of PR pace, which was actually kind
of frustrating. Even though I was slower
in Columbia (1:24:15), I had been feeling a lot better and more fit back in
September. I knew the wind was going to
get worse as I got closer to Boston and the Newton hills were looming on the
horizon, so I was wholly expecting a slowdown in the second half.
In Columbia, I hit the halfway point, which was at the top
of the biggest hill on the course, and for whatever reason my splits went from
about 6:20-25 to about 6:00-6:05. I didn’t
feel like I was picking up the pace, but I certainly did. I had kind of hoped the same thing would
happen in Boston, but instead my 5k splits slowed a bit, to the point that my
next two 5k’s were my slowest of the day (19:54 and 19:59). However, mentally that halfway point was a
major boost. I don’t really know what
happened, but for whatever reason my mood just lifted at halfway. I always set up checkpoints in my head late
in marathons. At 13.1, it was “Get to 16”,
then “Get to 18”, Then 20, and from there I didn’t really know. But from the halfway point, the race started
to fly by.
The only major memory I have from halfway to 16 was the
start of the Newton hills. I had always
heard the second half of the race was hillier, but I thought Heartbreak Hill
was the only real challenge. So it was a
pretty big surprise when I hit a massive downhill just after 15. I was happy about this, and used the hill as
I had every other one: I increased my pace but not my effort, keeping in
control as I got passed by several people down the hill. I could only assume that with a massive downhill
there would be a large uphill, and I was right.
Looking back on the course, that uphill after 16 was more difficult than
Heartbreak Hill. I was able to power
through it, and had a decent split, but it was a shock 16 miles in.
The next few miles went by pretty quickly, with a few hills
mixed in with the increasing wind. My hamstring
and IT band were still noticeable but holding up for the time being. I got to 20 feeling decent, then started to
climb. I didn’t even realize it at the
time, but I was climbing Heartbreak Hill a mile before I was expecting it. Somehow in my head I thought it came AFTER 21
miles instead of leading up to 21 miles.
So I climbed this hill, but started to notice a serious problem in my
hamstring about halfway up.
The hamstring started pulling and cramping in the same way
it had at 23.5 miles (climbing a hill) in Columbia. Right as I got to the top of the hill in
Boston (I still didn’t realize it was Heartbreak Hill) my hamstring tried to
clench. I had to stop to stretch, which
was definitely the worst moment for me in the entire race. I had over 5 miles to go and my hamstring had
given out. For whatever reason, I
decided to only briefly stretch. I would
say I was stopped for maybe 10 seconds before gingerly starting to run again,
to the relief and some extra cheers from the incredibly loud crowd. It was only then that I looked up and saw the
signs proclaiming, “You’ve reached the top of Heartbreak Hill.” What a huge relief this was! I was legitimately shocked, thinking I was
going to hit it a mile ahead. Knowing where
I was on the course, I now remembered the remainder of the way was a net
downhill. Over the next ½ mile I analyzed
every piece of data my body was giving me to determine how much I had left.
At the Pittsburgh Marathon in 2010, I knew my race was over by
12 miles. At Memphis in 2012, I was done
by 16. I finished both, but very
slowly. In Columbia, I was barely
hanging on after 23 miles, but was able to finish with respectable splits. Here in Boston, I was having a mental argument
with myself. I had been telling myself the
entire way, “Hold back, hold back, hold back.”
I was so scared that I was going to hit a wall, and the idea of fading
and having to walk/jog the final miles of the Boston marathon was frightening. But at 21.5 miles, I could tell there was
still something in the tank. I decided to
start a surge and see how long I could sustain it. I had felt the same way a few weeks before in
a 10k I ran back in Louisville, and surged the entire second half of the
race. I figured in Boston, even if I could
only hang on for 2-3 miles, I would be close enough to the finish to still run
a respectable time.
hamstring was able to sustain the surge, and I hit my 22nd
mile in 5:53, feeling great. At that
point I was thinking ahead to 25 miles and hopefully seeing Teri again. I hit 23 in 6:02, 24 in 6:00. Looking back at my splits online, my 5k from
35-40k was 18:45, by far my fastest of the day.
I still felt good heading towards 25 miles, again hitting 6:00. I had sustained this surge for much longer
than expected, and I was in such a zone that after 25 miles I was more focused
on finishing and I apparently missed Teri. But she told me she saw me, and I was just
looking ahead the entire time, focusing on passing runners. I did hear my friend John, who was camped out
at 25.5 handing out cannoli’s/ When I
hit the Citgo and the 1 mile to go sign, the effects of the surge finally began
to catch up to me, at least mentally. I
was ready to be done, but I was a mile from the finish line, dammit! I held on as long as I could, passing up John
and his cannoli’s. Right onto Hereford
Street, ½ mile to go. Left onto Boylston…holy
crap, I thought the finish line would be closer! It didn’t matter, I was feeling great and
surging towards the finish. The crowd,
even 30+ minutes after the leaders had come through, wasn’t cheering, they were
roaring, and I couldn’t help but get excited.
I finally crossed the finish line and immediately raised my arms in
celebration. 2:44:48, a 48-second PR!!! I ran the last 2k in 8:01, 5:53 pace and my
last 5 miles were my 5 fastest of the day.
I had finished just in time.
Almost immediately after finishing, the skies opened up and a cold
downpour began to fall. The wind
suddenly picked up and blew over a few signs.
I had missed running in this by less than 2 minutes. The first things I noticed were my stiff
elbows and my left hand being absolutely numb from cold. I could barely hold anything that was given
to me, but every volunteer was so kind, asking if I was ok before helping me on
to the next person. The walk through the
finish area took forever, and by the time I was out of it, I was wet and cold,
with my hands full of food and drinks I didn’t really want. I went over to the family meeting area and
stood under the “D”, hoping Teri and her friends would be there soon. I ran into another runner in the same
situation (he had just broken 2:40 for the first time). While we talked and shivered in the cold, a
volunteer came over and tried to direct us inside to warm up and get a massage. Despite our arguments, she insisted that our
families/friends could wait for us, and basically dragged us inside. Once inside, I limped down the stairs and sat
on a massage table for probably 20 minutes, before finally getting up and being
allowed to leave. I walked out of the
hotel and found Julie and Nidhi waiting, while Teri had apparently gone off
trying to track me down.
Fortunately a minute later I heard her voice, and turned
around to see her walking towards me.
Seeing how excited she was for me and just embracing her was about the
best feeling of the day.
Overall, Boston now has to rank as my favorite running
experience. Despite bad weather,
insufficient preparation and a bad hamstring, I ran my fastest and most enjoyable
marathon ever. While I don’t know when
and/or if I will ever run Boston again, it will always stand in my mind for all
that went right on that day.
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