Boston

The dreary weather outside the train window was forecasted to get even drearier but that couldn’t put a damper on my excitement to finally be on my way to this race. Boston has been a goal of mine since finishing the Baltimore Marathon in 2004 and now after many miles, many new running friends, and many high’s and low’s, I was on my way. Fuck the weather.

I was rooming with English Mike and we were headed there together, we got to our room, went to the expo and got our race packet, got a big plate of pasta and got to bed. The wind was howling outside and the rain was pounded against the window but the local forecast called for clearing conditions just before race time. I think Mike and I both went to bed with out fingers crossed.

In the morning we made our way down to Copley Square and lined up for the bus. It was pouring rain and quite windy but our spirits were still high as we chatted with a few other people in line. As promised the ride out to Hopkinton seemed like forever and I think it was compounded by the fact that you could not see out the fogged up windows.

After about an hour I was itching to get off the bus, we unloaded onto a mud covered field. The rain had let up a little but the mud was everywhere, unavoidable, especially when you really didn’t know where the hell you were going. Luckily we had planned ahead and I had my dry running shoes and a fresh pair of socks to throw on before I handed over my bag and headed to the start.

The rain had been sporadic and light since getting off the bus but it started coming down heavy as I headed to my corral. I got into the corral with a few minutes to spare and miraculously the rain stopped just before the start. I didn’t know it at the time, but it would only return for a couple brief periods during the race.

Actually, during the race the weather didn’t seem like a huge factor. The wind was virtually nonexistent for the first 5 miles and then popped up hear and there often at especially bad times such as a big hill but overall I didn’t think about it much. It was 48 and overcast, great racing conditions. It obviously had an effect when you look at the male and female winning times, the slowest for the males since 1977, but for me it was hard to notice a big difference during the race. So I am going to shut up about it.

I promised myself to hold back in the first couple miles but it was hard to gauge on the steep downhill. First mile went by in about 7:20 and the second was just over 6:40. I was feeling great, finding my groove early and was plugging away. It was mostly downhill for the first several miles with some uphill mixed in. The course passed by a lot of single homes with families out there cheering us on. It was nice.

Surprisingly I saw Devon at about mile 4, said a quick hi and tried to ignore a cramp that had popped up in my stomach. A ½ mile later the cramp was gone as quickly as it had come and I was just trying to take it all in. The miles were going by quickly and they were all at, or just below my goal pace of 6:48. Before I knew it mile 10 passed, I was on pace and was feeling OK. Not terrific but definitely not bad. My breathing was smooth and I didn’t feel like I was pushing to hard.

I was concentrating on splits as we went by mile 12 and I had forgotten all about Wellesley College. The wind was blowing from that direction and on the wind I suddenly picked up the sound of a 1000 screaming girls. “My God! People aren’t exaggerating; you really can hear them a ½ mile away.” Like a distant roar that grew louder with each step. Despite the build up from past runner about this part of the course I was still floored.

I couldn’t help but join in the excitement as I ran by. I was giving out high fives like they were going out of style, cupping my hand to my ear and getting bowled over by the increase in screams. It was more than I thought it would be and the perfect pick up as you head up a hill and into the second half of the race. It's also the reason mile 13 went by in 6:37 despite a hill.

This was where the marathon really started and I was just counting up the miles we approached Newton. Mile 14-16 were fairly uneventful, generally downhill and I just tried to keep an even pace and save some energy for what I knew was ahead. The first real hill was in mile 17, up and over Interstate 95.

I was feeling decent and I tried to slowly pass people as we went up the hill, not flying just making sure I wasn’t falling off the pace. Mile 17 went by in 7:05. I was happy with that. This was followed by more downhill and then a hard turn at the fire house and on to the Newton Hills.

At mile 18 in a marathon you are never feeling terrific but I knew I felt decent enough and was confident I’d able to get over these hills without losing to much. Thinking back about these hills I can’t really remember everything exactly. I was getting a little hazy as can sometimes happen later in the marathon. I can remember repeatedly thinking “This ain’t over until you pass that mile 21 marker, keep on it” Mile 18 – 7:05, mile 19 - 6:55, mile 20 – 7:11 and mile 21- 7:20. I didn’t want the miles to go below 7:15 but I wasn’t going to worry about 5 seconds. The hills were about as hard as I thought they would be after balancing all the hype you hear about them against the experiences of people who actually have run them.

So now I have 5.2 miles to go and 35:53 left before the 3 hour mark passes. I wasn’t feeling to hot at this point but I knew if I kept the pace sub 7:00 I was going to break 3 hours. Before the race I had imagined this exact situation and thought if I could get myself to this point I would be able to hold until the finish. What you imagine isn’t always what comes true.

My body was revolting, it wasn’t a sudden thing but slowly building with every mile. I was pushing and pushing just praying that the splits wouldn’t start to tail off. I remember passing Boston College and turning onto Beacon Street but my concentration wasn’t too great. When the crowd kind fades off into the back ground both audibly and visually I know I am pushing myself into territory where things can quickly get bad. I was worried I was hitting the wall but didn’t want to drop off the pace.

In the Chicago marathon I never got to this point. I was fatigued racing towards the finish but always in total control. Chicago had dulled the memory of how things can get when you are pushing yourself at the end of a marathon and now in Boston I was getting a strong reminder. Mile 22 – 6:52, “one down, 4 to go”. Mile 23 - 7:07, “Shit, pick it up”. Mile 24 - 6:57 “Maybe I have a shot”.

I now had 15 minutes left and 2.1 miles to go. I couldn’t precisely calculate things at the time but I knew I was going to need to speed things up to pull this off, it just was not happening. It wasn’t a total collapse I just couldn’t seem to move faster or even hold my pace. Mile 25 - 8:03. 3:00 was now out of reach. I was let down and whined about it in my head for a minute or two but quickly realized I was going to PR in Boston, on a shitty ass day, and I had less than a mile to go. I am going to enjoy it.

I forced, what must have looked like the smile of madman, onto my face and concentrated on keeping up my 8:00 minute pace until I crossed that line. My mood followed the smile and I turned onto Boylston, saw the finish and despite how I felt physically, I was mentally elated. I crossed the line and waddled through the finish area. 3:02:45

Missed my goal but I still felt great knowing I had PR’d and it was done. Boston was done. We got word of the winner’s time as I walked through the finishing area and realized that it was 7 minutes off of the pace from the year before and easily 5 minutes slower than the average winning time over the last 25 years. That fact made me even happier. I felt like I had given it all I had out there. I raced just about exactly the race I wanted and it just didn’t come together in the end. I’m cool with that, I don’t think I could have done much better.

I looked through all other Philly Runner finish times and it seems everybody had a decent day despite the weather. Congratulations to all the racers and big props to Michelle, Ryan, and Devon who came up to cheer us along on a nasty day.