Patriots Day - The 115th Boston Marathon
My alarm was set for 4:15 AM. I knew that I would have enough energy and adrenaline to overcome a sleepiness that I felt, and I wanted to have time to take a quick shower and slowly go through my whole checklist before I departed for Boston Common to catch the bus to Hopkinton. Not knowing how that was all going to work, I decided to make sure I was there at 5:45.
As it turned out, I woke up at 3:30 AM - long before my alarm was to go off but amazingly refreshed. I went to bed a decent hour and slept like a rock. I laid in bed for a while and just thought about what the day had in store, and then went about getting ready to go.
It was chilly and very windy waiting for the bus so I was glad to be able to get on the first wave going out. I recall thinking how long it took to get to Hopkinton, and then it occurred to be it had a lot to do with the fact that it was a long way from Boston to Hopkinton...and I was going to run back! I followed some advice I got and ate my breakfast on the way there, and continued to hydrate. It turns out that my biggest worry about marathon day has nothing to do with the marathon, but rather whether or not I'll be able to "take care of business" well enough that it doesn't become an issue while I am running. It occurs to me repeatedly as I am drinking fluids and eating food. "Please, Lord...give me enough time to..." well, you know.
As it turned out, I woke up at 3:30 AM - long before my alarm was to go off but amazingly refreshed. I went to bed a decent hour and slept like a rock. I laid in bed for a while and just thought about what the day had in store, and then went about getting ready to go.
It was chilly and very windy waiting for the bus so I was glad to be able to get on the first wave going out. I recall thinking how long it took to get to Hopkinton, and then it occurred to be it had a lot to do with the fact that it was a long way from Boston to Hopkinton...and I was going to run back! I followed some advice I got and ate my breakfast on the way there, and continued to hydrate. It turns out that my biggest worry about marathon day has nothing to do with the marathon, but rather whether or not I'll be able to "take care of business" well enough that it doesn't become an issue while I am running. It occurs to me repeatedly as I am drinking fluids and eating food. "Please, Lord...give me enough time to..." well, you know.
Athletes Village
It is nothing like a village at all. They never are. However, there was food and liquids for those that were willing to tempt fate with things they don't usually eat while training or racing, and plenty of porta-potties for the early arrivals. After arriving in the village around 6:40, I found a spot out of the wind and laid down. For most of the time, I just stayed warm, dry, and relaxed. It must have worked, as a check of my resting heart rate revealed 58 bpm.
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| Relaxing in Athletes Village (aka Hopkinton High School's baseball field) |
I made sure to visit the porta-potties about 3 times so there were no surprises during the run. Around 9:15, I dropped my stuff off at the bag drop and started the 0.7 mile walk down the street toward the start line, making sure to hit the toilets behind the market for one last pit stop. By the time I got to the start area, the National Anthem had just started. I peeled off my cheap sweats I bought at Wal-Mart and chucked them to the curb, and then I was able to slip right into my corral.
The early miles
10:00 arrived very fast, but I was ready to go. In retrospect, I could not have timed it any better had I tried, and I am glad for the strategic decisions I made ahead of time so there was no stress before I got underway.
As the bodies pushed forward toward the start line the pace picked up, and I crossed the start line at full speed around 10:06 AM. I kept repeating the mantra that I had heard several times and read many times more - "don't start out too fast." The first few miles of the marathon are downhill, and people that don't care if they walk the last few miles are the ones that race down the hill. My ultimate top goal was 3:15:00, which meant a 7:25 pace. I set my pace at around 7:35 and just cruised to see how I felt.
After a couple of miles, I was feeling pretty good so I increased my pace. The miles went by slowly at first. It was quiet, with the only real crowd noise coming from the biker bar we passed around Mile 3, I think. At 10k, I was at a 7:30 pace and continued to speed up through almost every successive mile. In Mile 12, I ran a 7:16 pace, mostly to get away from someone who wouldn't stop talking to me. I increased my overall pace to 7:28 through the half-marathon point.
Near disaster
One of the parts of the course one hears about the most is around the half-marathon point in Wellesley. The women of Wellesley College come out en masse to scream at the top of their lungs for all the runners. Many of the young ladies have signs that say "Kiss Me" or some variation thereof. While that didn't appeal to me, I did enjoy cupping my hand to my ear to make them yell louder and high-fiving about half of the student population. And then...
In front of me, a much older gentleman decided to stop on a dime to kiss one of the girls. He did it far enough in front of me that I was able to step to my left to go around him. Inexplicably, instead of simply smooching and running, the jerk jumped away from the fence to his left right in front of me. We collided and I stepped on his foot, rolling my ankle over the top of it in the process. A bolt of pain shot up my leg, and I thought my day was over. He took off running and I took a few ginger steps and determined nothing was (severely) torn or damaged...and off I went. I knew that as long as I kept running, any soft tissue injury probably would not bother me until I stopped. I caught up to my new friend and shared a few choice words with him...and them left that knucklehead in my dust.
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| No broken ankle so two thumbs up. |
Knowing that the hills were ahead, this was my last good chance to shave some time off before slogging up the hills that do not end until Mile 21.
As I pushed through Mile 15, my overall pace had increased to 7:27. I knew at that point that I would have to crest the hills ahead with enough left in the tanks to increase my pace and run negative splits the last few miles. Miles 14-16 were at 7:14, 7:23, and 7:17, respectively.
Assessing my legs as I crossed through Mile 16, I knew that was going to be a long shot. Without the hills, maybe...but the hills were going to take a lot out of me. I decided to attack the hills and make a final assessment on trying to speed up when I got to the top of Heartbreak Hill.
The hill after Mile 16 was a taste of what was to come, but it was over fairly quickly, and there was plenty of time to recover through about Mile 17.5. The right turn at the Newton Fire Station signals the official beginning of the Newton Hills, and I knew the first one was right in front of me. I put my head down and gave myself a quick pep talk. I had been training for this moment in every long run I did, and I wanted to attack the hills - not just survive them.
The first hill is not a long hill, but the incline was significant. As I crested the hill, I check my heart rate - 180 bpm - and I was concerned that it was that high with 8 miles left. As the ground flattened over the rest of Mile 18, my heart rate dropped back to 165 and I felt better about the upcoming short hill after Mile 19 . The second hill spiked my heart rate again, but only for a moment and it was over quickly. Again, my heart rate settled back down, and I started pumping myself up for the final assault.
Heartbreak Hill
I was talking to the hill the whole way up. My legs were actually going pretty fast, and I was not going let it beat me. Although, there had been consistent crowd noise throughout the last 15 miles or so, it was at this point that I became acutely aware of the crowd...and needed them. People were picking out specific runners that were struggling, even the guy in the pink tutu that passed me earlier, and directly encouraging them to fight to the top. Many runners were walking, and I kept thinking to myself "that is not going to be you...not today." I kept charging up, fighting to keep my pace below 8:00/mile. My legs were like lead as I neared the top of the hill. My lungs were on fire.
At the top of hill, my heart rate was back up to 182 and my legs were cooked. Even though my heart rate dropped back down into the 160's going down the hill the last 5.2 miles into Boston, I would have had to run at an unattainable pace to come close to 3:15:00. As I let that goal slip away without any regret or remorse, I focused on beating my PR of 3:17:51 at the Rock 'N' Roll San Diego Marathon in June 2010.
The home stretch
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| All smiles in the home stretch. (Well, maybe not ALL smiles) |
Everything hurt - but I was having fun! The crowds were amazing, and I knew I was going to finish. Somewhere along the way, one of the photographers caught me enjoying myself...or maybe it was delirium.
I was focused like a laser now on trying to run my last miles under 7:30 to get myself in a position to achieve the PR. The crowd kept pushing us all along and raising the energy level. At each fluid station, I took the Gatorade and then dumped a full cup of cold water on my head. The jolt seems to propel me when things start to slowly start grinding and my energy is fading. (The downside is that it often looks as though I peed my pants...as if I had any extra body fluids at this point!)
Just before Mile 23, the first and only wave of all-encompassing pain hit me. Interestingly, this is almost the exact same spot it hit me in both San Diego and New York. (Something to remember when training for the next one) My right quad was cramping slightly so I made a deal with myself to stop to walk and stretch it for no more than 30 seconds and then go all out the rest of the way to the finish. As I pulled my foot behind me to stretch my quad, my hamstring started to cramp. "No, no, no," I said and quickly stretched out the hamstring, walked it out for about 20 seconds and got my ass in gear. My day was NOT going end there.
The delay cost me time, though. I decided to push Mile 24 and Mile 25 so I had a shot at the PR in the last 1.2 miles. The fact that I was able to do math in my head at that point in time is still a bit shocking to me. I don't remember exactly what what my Garmin said at each point, but after running Mile 24 and Mile 25 at around 7:38 each, I knew from my Garmin time that I needed to run Mile 26 even faster and then it was going to be very close over the last 0.2 miles.
The finish
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| 3:17:39 |
After a 7:34 in Mile 26, I had to cover the last .2 miles in less than 90 seconds. "Go to the arms." That was good advice that I've received from some great runners, and I started pumping them to force my legs to move. I have no idea where the energy actually came from, but the moment I turned the corner onto Boylston Street (about 0.3 miles from the finish) I was at a dead sprint.
The finish line looked about 10 miles away at that point, but I locked in on the blue arch and tried to run faster. All I could hear was the crowd. The noise was amazing, and I found myself alone with no other runners around me.
Ahead was a pack of runners, and I decided I wanted to beat them all. Waving to the crowd and asking them for more, I covered the last few hundred yards at a 6:10 pace, weaved through the pack that had been ahead of me, and crossed the finish line in 3:17:39.
12 seconds to spare....
In retrospect
I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the experience. I know that I can run faster with more training. However, even if I do, I think I am ready to accept that this is the single most significant personal accomplishment that I have ever had and may ever have. It came for me quickly - as compared to many who try relentlessly over a period of years to qualify - but that does not mean it came easily. And it didn't happen in solitary. Without the encouragement of the people that got me running, and the people that challenged me to do more - and without the support and love of my family - none of it could happen. I don't think I would have the will.
I don't know if I will get back to Boston again. I don't yet know if I want to. There was something surreal about running in the footsteps of 115 years of marathoners, and in he immediate footsteps of Geoffrey Mutai, who "stunned the world" with his 2:03:02 - the fastest marathon ever, and I don't know if anything I would experience there again could match what I was part of on April 18, 2011.
I know this...
No matter where I run or what I run, I will keep on this path. There is nothing like the feeling of challenging my limits and overcoming all adversity. And nothing tastes sweeter than crossing the finish line.
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| Patriots Day - April 18, 2011 - 115th Boston Marathon |
Link here to my Garmin run data
