116th Boston Marathon

Monday, April 16, 2012

The Boston Marathon is the grandaddy of marathons with a storied history and I was super-excited last year to qualify and be accepted to run in 2012.  Sure, I prefer to run trails and I'm no speedster, but the Boston Marathon is an event that most runners want to experience, regardless of their background.

In the lead-up to the race I found that many non-runners can relate to Boston.  Whereas discussions about ultra runs result in blank stares and disbelief, the marathon is an event that sparks interest and inquiry, and there was much excitement on the part of friends and family about my participation in the race.  With something on the order of one-half million spectators at Boston, it is billed as the largest annual sporting event in New England and coincides with Patriot's Day, a most important Bay State holiday.  Even though I grew up only a stone's throw from the race, I never paid very close attention to the event until recent times.

It was extra special to be able to include my Mom and Dad in the race experience.   We went to the Expo together to pickup my bib and wandered through the exhibition hall looking at the clothing, shoes, food, and gear marketed to a captive audience.  From there we walked along the waterfront to Fanueil Hall for lunch and completed our loop at Boston Common.

I qualified to run Boston with a time of 3:10, but I hoped that with good training and favorable weather I might have a shot at cracking the 3:00 mark.  I started marathon specific training in early February with speed work at the track.  The mild winter made for favorable conditions, but there were plenty of days when I ran laps in the darkness, some when I was pelted with rain, and a few when I left footprints in a thin layer of snow.  Bundled and determined, I felt good about how I came through the winter, ready for spring.

It was three days before the marathon that the race-day weather forecast changed from a prediction of mid-60s to mid-80s.  The news caused me immediate disappointment.  There's no use in getting upset about the conditions, but it was clear that achieving any personal record at the marathon was out of the question.  The day before the marathon, the race organization notified runners that a one-year deferment option was available due to the forecast heat.  They went on to warn runners to view the run as an experience and not as a race.

Under the specter of record heat I figured I would take it easy and make the best of the experience.  Getting a much-appreciated ride from Mom and Dad out to Hopkinton, the Athlete's Village was jam-packed with runners and volunteers - over 22,000 runners would start the race today.  Finally at about 9:15AM we were released by wave and corral to walk 0.7 mile back to town to the start.  Fearing I might miss the start after a long wait for a last-minute bathroom break, I jogged back to town through the throngs of runners.  I checked into corral 7 on Main Street and waited for the start.  Standing in the sun it was probably in the 70s and I could see some beads of sweat on my arms.

The MC announced the start of the race at 10:00 AM, but it was a few minutes before our corral started to move and a full five minutes before we reached the start line.  I had been warned not to get carried away in the fast pace out of the gate, but surprisingly, I found myself shoulder to shoulder with runners who were showing great restraint in their pace.  In fact, I felt like passing runners, but I had nowhere to go, so I maintained my position as we headed downhill.

I was monitoring my pace and after a couple of miles it was clear to me that I wasn't going to turn in a sub-3:00 hour performance.  In fact, it appeared that it would be a stretch to even hit 3:10 again, but I kept this in mind as a goal for now.  It took some additional pressure off.

As we came upon the aid stations I would grab a cup of gatorade or water, take a few sips, and discard the cup.  The road was covered in discarded cups that clicked from the hundreds of feet that pounded them flat.  Ahead of me on the straight sections, the road was filled with an incredible sea of runners that seemed to stretch for miles ahead.

From the start, spectators lined the course, many with signs of good luck and cheer for their runners, and their enthusiasm was infectious.  By the time we arrived in Framingham I was hitting a rough patch and the race was feeling like a suffer-fest, just as billed.  I began to ask myself why the heck I was even running it and beyond the train depot, as I felt the temperature climb, I considered dropping, but I told myself to keep running through it.  My pace slowed.

I began to pick up a gatorade at each aid station and follow with a water that I would mostly toss over my head and down my back.  My cardio system didn't feel maxed out, nor were my muscles sore, but I felt like my ability to self-cool was my main limitation.  I was concerned every time I felt that my arms and face were getting warm.  I also continued a steady dosage of S-Caps to maintain my electrolytes.

Approaching Wellesley I could hear the fabled scream tunnel from the students who lined the course with their signs and asked for kisses from the passing runners.  I got a real kick out of their excitement and the heat I had been feeling was transformed into chills as I fed off their energy.  Continuing into
Wellesley center and the halfway mark I was going to need some additional inspiration and I glanced out at one sign with a picture of Yoda and the quote "Do or do not.  There is no try."  With no second thought I made this my mantra for the balance of the race.

Over the next miles through Wellesley and across 128 into Newton I started to notice the number of runners who were reduced to a walk or were otherwise in great pain and anguish.  The heat was taking its toll.  Mercifully, many spectators had oranges, water, popsicles, wet paper towels, sponges, etc. that they were handing to runners.  I took advantage of several opportunities to eat an orange slice or cool my arms and neck with a wet paper towel.  Garden hoses were also a popular sight and attracted runners like fluttering birds to a birdbath.

The hills started in Newton as promised, after the course passes the fire station.  I was hoping to see my parents at around mile 21.5 after heartbreak hill and it kept me focused on continuing through this stretch.  I noticed here that many runners were simply glued to the right hand side of the course in favor of the intermittent shade of trees and I tried to find shorter lines on the road where I could.

Reaching the base of heartbreak hill after mile 20, I was feeling excited to be at this place and I was using the spectator's energy to help propel me forward.  Raising my arms to prompt the college kids to make some noise caused them to erupt and spurred me onward and upward.  It was a psychological boost to hit mile 20 and I felt pretty good as I came up to the top of the hill, and followed another rolling down and up to the end of the green line at Boston College.  I started to pay more attention to the crowd here, hoping to see my parents.  As it turned out, they weren't able to cross over to the south side of Comm Ave and so I was looking in the wrong place.

A longish downhill ensued and carried the course to Cleveland Circle where we turned onto Beacon Street.  Lined with brownstones and parallel to the green line, you could start to taste the finish here.  I began to push my pace, perhaps imperceptibly, but I had about three miles to go and now was the time to finish strong.  I realized at this moment that I didn't feel the slightest discomfort from the plantar fasciitis I had battled for months.  At the aid stations I continued my gatorade and water routine and by now, the roads in vicinity of the aid stations were completely covered in thousands of green discarded cups.

The crowds along the route were bigger now as the course approached Kenmore Square, the famous Citgo sign off to the left and Fenway Park to the right.  One more aid station and we joined Comm Ave.  A right turn onto Hereford Street for two blocks and then the finish was in sight down Boylston Street.  I pushed down this last stretch and across the finish line with a net time of 3:26:13.  It wasn't pretty, but I was satisfied with my performance.

at the Boston Common, post-race

As with all other aspects of the race, the finish area was well organized and volunteers handed us water, gatorade, medals, food, more water, etc. as we wound our way down and around the block.  The official temperature for Boston was 87 F, a new record, although a southwest breeze made it feel better.    The only saving grace with the weather was the low humidity.  I couldn't have done this race if the humidity had been high.

I waited for my parents who were unfortunately frustrated by the slow operations of the green line and we reunited for a picnic on Boston Common.  It was too bad I had missed them during the race, but I was still so appreciative for their support, which helped to buoy my spirits during the run.

The Boston Marathon experience was bittersweet for me.  It was an unparalleled experience thanks to the organization, volunteers, and spectators, but it was a tough run thanks to mother nature.  I'm curious to know how many runners met their 2013 Boston Marathon qualifying times on this day.  I think I survived as a result of conditioning, some ultra experience in hot weather, and a little bit of luck!