Old Man Spring?

When there is a big event on the horizon, like say the Boston Marathon, you picture it in your mind for months leading up to it.

I have a picture in my mind of race day in Boston. Waking up early and taking the T down to the Bus Pick up zone. Being totally wired at 6:00 in the morning as I wait with all the other runners to hop on the bus for the long drive out to Hopkinton. I've never been to Hopkinton but I picture a large field or park surrounded by homes and filled with thousands of runners with buses dropping off more every minute. A bunch of thin people milling around with nervous excitement in their stomach, eyeing each others bib numbers and discussing race strategy. Snacking on this and that as I worry that I drank to much and get ready to line up.

Squeezing into the corral and trying to shake off the chill because I am wearing shorts and a t-shirt and it is 40 degrees out. The gun goes off and true to my word I hold back the first couple miles, keeping a short gait and saving energy and my quads on the first couple miles of downhill. People are lining the streets and cheering us on. After a few miles I get into the rhythm of the race and really open up my eyes to what is going on around me. Cheering fans, smells of bar-b-q, a lot of runners that look like they are a lot faster than me.

At the halfway point a mountain of screams from the girls at Wellesley. I have heard about these girl so many times that I think anything at this point can't meet my expectations of supermodels with skimpy outfits and bullhorn amplified screams. I am feeling good, in control but my mind is worrying about what is ahead. How bad are these hills going to be, do my legs still feel good, can I keep this pace up? I'd probably have some idea of how hard I can push on the hills at this point and I'd hopefully push over them leading up to Heartbreak Hill. Another part of Boston lore that just cannot be as bad as all this buildup indicates... Or maybe it can.

I crest Heartbreak Hill and I know that I have 5 miles of downhill or flat roads ahead of me. I'm checking my watch and attempting the mental calculations to see how fast I need to run to get under 3 hours. Of course mental arithmetic is nearly impossible at this point and I'm probably going to get it wrong anyhow, so I decide to just keep pushing and get those mile splits as low as I can. Can I do it, how am I feeling, where the hell is that Citgo sign I kept hearing about?

I cruise by all the drunken fans that were at the Boston Red Sox game and wish I was one of them instead of in the agonizing pain that accompanies the last 3 miles. Maybe I am close to my goal time or maybe I am a little behind but I am just happy to know it is all going to be over in 10 minutes. I cross the finish, hopefully with a fat PR on the clock, and a smile on my face. Hobble over to the post-race refreshments and then start looking for friends to finish.

In none of my imagining was there a gigantic winter storm in the forecast. I worried about it being to hot but I wasn't thinking Nor'Easter. I just have to take all the mental images from above and remove cheering fans, drunken red sox attendees, bar-b-q's and PR's. In their place I can put tropical force winds, driving sheets of rain, numb limbs and most likely one hell of a story.

One forecaster stated that if things turn out like all of the weather models are suggesting this will be the worst storm that he has every seen in April. I think he looks about 105 yrs old so that pretty much means worst storm ever. This should be fun.

On to my runs.

Monday Off

Tuesday 5 miles with the group. about 7:00 pace for the first three and then I slowed it down.

Wednesday. 5 miles in the Wissahickon. I really felt great on this run, bouncy, fast. Like I was ready to go.