Boston Marathon - RunMarathon

This was easily the strangest marathon I have ever run, for several reasons. Let me give the story of the entire event, starting from my hotel, and ending at the Hard Rock Cafe. When I got up at the Holiday Inn in Somerville at 6:35, I had plenty of time. I came with my step dad, and my buddy from the Air Force (87-91) drove up from NY to hang out with us. He's also a up and coming runner and triathlete and vowed to come to Boston "when, not if" I qualified. He kept his word. So after I woke up and grabbed a quick shower, I dressed and my buddy Jim (all three of us are named "Jim"...how's that for confusing) headed downstairs for a quick breakfast. I had cereal and tea, Jim had a waffle. We went back to the room, where I grabbed my bag of "extras" and out the door we went.
This is a good time to elaborate on how I dressed and why. Up to the beginning of the race, the weather was calling for near hurricane force winds, driving rain, cold temps, and overall historically ridiculous weather for a marathon. How do you dress for predictions like this? Well, I dressed for the worst. Running tights, wind pants, long sleeved micro fiber shirt, light wind/rain jacket, running hat, winter hat, gloves. I was dressed for battle. Did I take to much? To little? Time would tell.
We jumped in Jim's Jeep at 8am and headed off for the race. Plenty of time...right? 2 hours to drive 28 miles....easy. A few wrong turns and we finally made it to the interstate. We zipped along, but as we approached our exit, it was completely blocked off by the police. OH, JUST GREAT...now what? We looked across to the east bound ramp, and the police had shut it down as well. We drove on to the next exit, where EVERYONE had apparently figured out THIS was THE PLACE to turn around, because there were countless cars, buses and police. After finally heading back in the right direction, we made it back to the closed exit ramp. There are two ramps...one leads you in the direction of the race, the other in the opposite direction. The opposite one was opened, and my buddy Jim was determined to get me to the Church On Time, so he whipped the Jeep onto the incorrect ramp, and at the bottom, in front of countless alarmed police, he yanked the wheel and flew up on the median grass at the bottom of the hill. YIKES! Now, if I had my badge with me, I might be able to get us out of this, but I didn't think I'd need it. The police across the street were initially to stunned to believe someone just actually DID this, so they weren't very quick to spring into action and do something. I took advantage of this moment of indecision and jumped out of the jeep, tellin Jim I'd walk to the start from here. He whipped the jeep back over the median and was gone before the Po Po ever figured out how to handle this. Off I went walking the next 2 miles to the start, with countless others who were dropped off at the closed ramp on the interstate.
Oh, I should mention here that I'm a geek o rama! I got this new camera phone a few weeks ago that takes video too, so as I'm walking to the start, I'm taking short 13 second video clips and sending them home, since my family couldn't come with me. It's raining, it's cold, and the wind is whipping around, just as advertised by our friends at Fox news said. For the entire 2 mile walk, I can here the announcer on the PA system giving runners information. It sounds like I'm only a few blocks away the entire walk. The area of Hopkinton is very rural. It's like any other small town setting in America, which for some reason was nothing like I expected for THE BOSTON MARATHON. Really, I had no expectation, but for the most prestigious marathon in the world, this seemed very....hmmmmmm, small? As I actually walked into the town, and towards the race start, it didn't seem like a BIG marathon at all. It had all the feeling of my local Thanksgiving Day 10K race. The older buildings lined the street, and everyone was darting around trying to figure out where to stand out of the rain. With 20 minutes until the start, I found a large tree to stand under, near my coral entrance.
Now.....what to wear. The weather was so ON THE BOARDER. It was warm enough to just wear the tights...hell, I may have even put up with my shorts, but the rain and wind were another issue. The wind/rain pants never slowed me down before, so I kept them too. The jacket was good protection against the rain and wind, but it could also hold in the heat, and upper 40's was pushing it...but with this EXTREME forecast, I opted to wear it as well. I put on my white "baseball type" race hat, tossed my extra cloths, and headed to my coral.
There was just the strangest of feelings in the air, and nearly everyone around me seemed to comment on it. THIS JUST DIDN"T FEEL LIKE A MARATHON. Which is strange, because more than anything else, at least in MY mind, THIS should feel like THE marathon...or maybe THIS is how a marathon is SUPPOSED to feel. Soon, the National Anthem was sung, we all cheered, and the "gun" when off. My phone rang and as I was walking to the "start" of the race, I described to Mary what was going on around me.....very cool. I hung up and crossed the start line....off we went.
The street at the beginning of the race is only 2 lanes wide, so there was no blazing speeds by anyone at the beginning, unless you were WAY UP FRONT. That was fine with me. The first 1/4 mile or so was a nice down hill, so it was very nice. The rain had tapered to a slow drizzle and the winds were no longer a problem. This actually seems perfect for a marathon, and I immediately decided that I was way overdressed. Oh well...I also decided I'd rather be a bit warm on a run than cold.
NOW A QUICK NOTE ON MY RACE STRATEGY: My qualifying race last fall had been a near mess. I had raging shin splints that nearly stopped me in my tracks. After I qualified, I vowed that BOSTON was going to be my "icing on the cake" race....no times to meet...no pace....just go out and enjoy the race, the people, the experience. Well, half way through my BOSTON training, I was feeling pretty good. No sign of shin splints, or any other problems really, except for some plantar fasciitis, but I was working on that. So, I began putting in some speed work and "kinda" put a time in my head...kinda. I thought that somewhere between 3:30 and 4 would be respectable for a Boston. I thought......
So...off I go and the first mile is a 8:12. I was just running in the pack of those I started with, and trying to go any faster would have been a big pain, trying to weave around in such a tight area...so that was just fine. Miles 2 and 3 were fast....7:28 and 7:38ish...but my 5K split put me at a 7:48 pace. YIKES, I'M GOING A BIT FAST HERE...but the pace actually felt slow to me, so now HERE IT COMES...MY BRAIN. Oh yea...I'm stupid. I'm at mile 3 with a pace I didn't train for, and thought since it felt sooooooo easy, I could probably just run the other 23 miles like this......I'm an idiot.
And what's worse, the next few miles didn't prove me wrong. But let me tell you something about the Boston Marathon. Something you've probably read. Something you don't actually SEE, but your body begins to feel. This course is DECEPTIVE. I think all of the down hills in the beginning is what eventually took its toll on my thighs. At mile 8, I felt the faintest of fatigue in my thighs, a muscle group that has NEVER given me a hint of trouble in a race. Hmmmm, I thought...if something is starting to feel like a problem at mile 8, it has the potential to be a real problem later......Foreshadowing!
The rain and winds had really calmed down well before mile 8, with only the occasional burst of wind or rain, but for the most part, the weather had turned decent, especially given the forecast.
Also, the crowds for this race were just amazing. This was my 11th marathon, and I believe this was the best group of marathon supporters, maybe even topping NY. This crowd didn't come to just witness this race, they came to participate. The yelled, high fived, held posters, patted you on the back, and made people feel like real superstars. It was amazing.
At the half marathon, I could feel the coming problems. Even though my average split was now (7:44), the thighs were WAY to tight and painful for this stage of the race, and 13.1 more miles was only going to turn this from nagging pain into a raging one......We ran through little towns and medium towns, and as people lined the streets and screamed, I tried to focus on my surroundings and soak it all up. As much as my legs were starting to hurt, I tried to "experience" the race around me. By mile 15 I was screwed. My thighs were now exploding with pain with every step. 11 more miles of this? I knew one thing to my core....I would finish. So now it was time to stop "racing" the marathon, and start focusing on getting to the next mile marker....and the next....and the next. I decided that walking through the water stations was a good idea...so I did. And maybe I walked a bit between them too....just a little bit. I knew the infamous "Heart Break Hill" lay just ahead. I turned to the crowds again for support. People would look you in the eye and tell you how good you were doing and you were going to make it....I smiled and rolled my eyes. Look good? No. Finish? Damn straight.
Run, Run, Run, drink, walk, run walk......Mile 20 and THE HILL. Now, I'm from Kentucky, and I gotta tell you, as hills go...this really wasn't as bad as I expected. Even in my pathetic shape, I managed to run...ok "jog" about 3/4 of it. The down hills by this time were worse than the up hills. My jacket was way to warm by this time, so I had pulled the bottom around my back and zipped it. The wind was picking back up, and I was teetering between being cold, and being hot....was I getting sick or what? Miles 21 through 24 were about the same....just gutting it out one step at a time. I had stopped taking my splits on my watch at mile 18, knowing that watching my times slip away further and further would do nothing positive for my spirit. At mile 24 my legs gave a wobble, and I slowed to a walk again. 2 miles to go...I can do this on my knees over glass. Back to a jog I went. I wasn't going to finish the BOSTON FREAKING MARATHON by walking! At mile 25 I stopped to walk one last time. A few yards later, I told myself that I was running this baby to the end now, and off I went. The screaming from the crowds at this point were incredible. With every yard, the volume inched up a notch. As I turned the last corner that lead to the finish line, and volume was as loud as any crowd could be. I actually began to smile. I looked around at the city, the people, the other runners and even though my legs were about to close up shop, I could feel the energy around me, and it carried me all the way to the finish line. Done. In every way. 4:02:43. Not great, not my worst.
For the next 30 seconds I was elated, and then the reality of the toll set in. Stuff was starting to shut down, and my brain was at the top of the list. I couldn't think straight, and every step became harder than the last. Ahhhhhhh, new levels of pain. Suddenly I was warm and cold all at once. My hands went numb as I shuffled towards the volunteers. I managed to put my foot on the board for the nice lady to remove my timing chip, and then place my medal around my neck. I was going downhill fast and didn't even look at the object around my neck. I just wanted to collapse. Just give me a area big enough for my body to lay on, but I knew in the far reaches of my head that THAT was a real bad idea. I got out my phone and called Jim.....he answered and I mumbled some words at him, hoping he could make sense of where I was. He and my step dad were waiting at the end of the barricade. I shuffled my sorry ass to them and Jim practically caught me. They helped me until I could get some liquids in me and my brain began to function again. My hands had turned yellow and were numb. What the hell was going on?!? We walked around until we happened upon the Hard Rock Cafe, which was only 2 blocks from the finish line. Jim went inside and called a Taxi while my step dad and I waited in the warm foyer. My senses began to come back to me finally, and it was then that I actually began to feel enjoyment about the entire event. I had finally qualified for Boston, managed to come here, run the race and I was happy. Our Taxi came, we found Jim's jeep, and somewhere near the hotel, my hands turned a normal color and I could feel them again. My Boston Marathon was over.

Nothing. There was just no way to predict this weather, so dressing for it was a big crap shoot. Training? No. The same training that would have given me more strength in my thighs may have also given me shin splints again, so I opted against it.
I guess I could have gone out a tad slower, but I say that every race....and eventually I might actually take my own advice.

Just try to stay upright and not fall down.


Gravity.


For my first and possibly last time doing this race, it's hard to sum it all up. It's the MECA of Marathons, and was my long time goal. I had a great time, and enjoyed it. The people of Boston were wonderful, and I toured the city for a few days afterward and had a great time. It's a city I look forward to going back to one day....marathon or not.