In Massachusetts, the third Monday in April is a holiday
called Patriots’ Day. It commemorates
the battles of Lexington and Concord, which marked the beginning of the
Revolutionary War in 1775. One of the
ways Boston residents celebrate Patriots’ Day is by running or watching the
Boston Marathon.
The Boston Marathon has been an annual event since
1897. It’s sponsored by the Boston
Athletic Association and was inspired by the Olympic Marathon held in Athens,
Greece in 1896. Several members of the
B.A.A. competed in the 1896 Olympic Games.
I ran my first Boston Marathon in 1991. I didn’t return until 2012, but I’ve been
back every year since. This year, I ran
my sixth Boston Marathon.
Many consider the Boston Marathon to be the Holy Grail of
marathons. It has a 120 year
history. It has a well-known
course. It finishes in a large city and
boasts huge crowds. Numerous elite
athletes from around the world travel to Boston to compete against the
best. Since 1970, runners have needed to
run a qualifying time in another marathon just to enter the race. For many, just qualifying is a lifetime
goal. These are some of the reasons I
had to run this race the first time I qualified for it. They’re not the reason I keep coming
back. I come back for the crowds.
There are other races, such as London and New York City, which
have bigger crowds. No other marathon
has better crowds. What do I mean by
better? Boston spectators know this race
inside and out. The two things
Bostonians appreciate most are sports and history. This race combines the two.
Boston spectators know how hard you’ve trained. They know exactly how you feel at different
points along the route. They know where
Heartbreak Hill is and how it got that name.
They won’t ask you how far this marathon is. They also won’t tell you it’s all downhill
from here, because they know there are more hills. This race is part of their Patriots’ Day
tradition. Whole families come out each
year to watch the race, even if they don’t have any friends who are
running. It’s like watching fireworks on
the 4th of July.
I began to appreciate the Boston crowds during the 2012
race. It was unusually hot that year,
and everyone came out with hoses, cups of water, ice, and popsicles. They knew what the runners needed, and they
helped us endure the heat.
Each year is different, but in some new way, the people of
Boston always impress me. They’re the
reason I keep coming back.
Last September, I agonized over whether or not to register
for this year’s race. I was injured, and
I knew I would need to take a break to heal at the end of the year. After that, I’d need to start training from
scratch. I knew I wouldn’t be in very
good shape. I had to decide if I was
willing to shuffle through this race slowly.
I did that in lots of races last year, but Boston is different. This is a race where you want to bring your
best effort.
I eventually decided to register for the race. It occurred to me that I might not be able to
qualify for next year’s race. Qualifying
gets more difficult each year, and I face an uphill battle to regain anything
close to my previous level of fitness.
This might be my last opportunity to run this race. Realizing that, I had to come back one more
time.
My last race was the Honolulu Marathon in December. I hoped I could heal from injuries while
still maintaining some minimum level of training. In early January, I realized I had to take a
complete break from running. In
February, I began physical therapy. I
didn’t start training until the first week of March. That didn’t give me much time to get in
shape.
I lost a lot of fitness.
More importantly, my mechanics were horrible, and most of the muscles
around my hips were weak. I’m still
working to strengthen them.
I flew to Boston on Saturday. In past years, I always stayed at a downtown
hotel. This year, they were too
expensive. The best hotel I could find
at a reasonable rate was a Doubletree near the University of
Massachusetts. It was near a T station
on the Red Line. I couldn’t walk to
Boston Common, but I could get there by train in about 15 minutes. This hotel also provided free transportation
to and from the airport. I got a
discounted rate by booking through Marathon Tours & Travel.
After checking in at Doubletree, I met some friends from
Houston at a coffee shop next to Boston Common.
Later, a few of us had dinner at Durgin Park. Durgin Park is a restaurant that serves
traditional New England food, like Yankee pot roast and clam chowder. I’ve never been to Boston without having
dinner there.
Sunday morning, I went to the expo at Hynes Convention
Center. The expo has been at this
location for a few years now, so I knew my way around.
It’s not efficient to make multiple trips between my hotel
and the downtown area, but the race packet is somewhat unwieldly. Besides my race bib and T-shirt, it included
a thick race program, product samples and a bottle of water. I didn’t want to lug it around all day, and I
especially didn’t want to lose my race bib, so I made a trip back to the hotel
to drop it off.
The rest of the day was all about friends and food. At noon, I went to the finish line on
Boylston Street, where Marathon Maniacs were gathering for a group photo. In Boston, the finish line is a permanent
fixture. You can see it painted on the
street all year. On race weekend, the
finish line scaffolding it set up, and one block of Boylston Street is closed
to traffic. The finish line becomes a
tourist attraction. It’s the most
popular place for photo ops.
This was my best opportunity to see dozens of friends in the
same place at the same time. I couldn’t
begin to count the number of runners I know who were doing this race, but it’s
hard to know everybody’s plans. The
finish line is like one stop shopping to see friends from all over.
After the finish line photos, I had lunch at Regina’s Pizza
with Gary and Heather. Then we went to
Sola’s Irish Pub, where members of the 50sub4 club were gathering. Later, I had dinner at an Italian restaurant
in the North End with Liznoel and some of her friends from Egypt.
I did a fair amount of walking both Saturday and
Sunday. My hips are still tight, but
they’re loosening up. I think all the
walking helped.
Monday was race day.
The Boston Marathon has relatively late start times with the first wave
not starting until 10:00, yet you still have to get up early. There were hundreds of buses to pick up
runners at Boston Common and transport us to the athletes’ village in
Hopkinton. Even though my wave didn’t
start until 10:25, I was supposed to board a bus between 6:45 and 7:21.
I was conflicted about what to wear for the race. The advance forecast called for a high of 65,
with mostly sunny skies. For most
people, that’s a bit warm, but for me, it would be ideal. If it was 65, I could wear shorts. For anything cooler, I would be tempted to
wear tights.
Walking around town Saturday and Sunday, I often felt cold,
even with a jacket. Then I saw the
forecast had been revised to a high of 59.
Looking at the hourly forecast, I noticed it would be warmest at
noon. By the time I finished, it would
be cooling into the low 50s. I was still
planning to wear shorts, but I was nervous about getting cold in the late
miles, when I wouldn’t be moving fast enough to keep warm. After talking to Deb, I made a last minute
decision to wear tights. I knew I risked
getting hot, but I wasn’t willing to risk being cold if I had to walk the last
few miles.
I left the hotel at 6:45, which got me to Boston Common just
after 7:00. They fill several buses at
the same time, but with so many runners, you still have to wait in a long line
to board a bus. The ride to Hopkinton took
about an hour. Some buses go right into
the start village. Others drop you off
at the bottom of a long hill. With so
many buses dropping off runners at the same time, they can’t all drop off in
the same place.
The athletes’ village is at Hopkinton High School. The first time I did this race – when it was
only about a quarter of its current size – we were able to wait inside the
school building. Now there are too many
runners for that. They set up a few
large canopies on the school grounds.
Some people sit under the canopies.
Others spread out blankets and sit on the grass. I brought a Mylar blanket for this purpose.
When I got to the athletes’ village, it was warmer than I
expected. There wasn’t a cloud in the
sky, and the sun felt warm. I was way
too comfortable. I knew I’d be hot when
I started running.
You used to be able to check a gear bag before starting the
race. After the bombings in 2013, the
B.A.A. changed the security procedures. You
can still check a bag with clothes you want at the finish, but you have to do
it at Boston Common, before boarding a bus.
Over my running clothes, I wore some old sweat clothes that
I was willing to discard. They have
donation bags at the exit from the athletes’ village. I forgot to pack a throwaway hat. The only warm hat I had was my cheetah hat
from Tokyo. That’s not a hat I was
willing to part with. If I wanted to
wear it in the athletes’ village, I would need to wear it for the race as well. I was going to be way overdressed.
There were PA announcements telling us when to leave the
athlete’s village and make our way to the start corrals, which were about a
mile away. On the way, there’s one last
chance to make a bathroom stop.
Each wave is divided into eight start corrals. I was assigned to corral five, based on my
qualifying time. You can’t start in
front of your assigned corral, but you can move back. Knowing I wouldn’t be running as fast as the
other people in my wave, I moved back to corral eight. That’s the last corral. I lined up in the back, so there wouldn’t be
any runners behind me.
Standing in the start corral, my shirt felt hot. The radiant heat of the sun was heating the
fabric. I was definitely
overdressed. I would have to worry about
overheating. I’m not sure how hot it was
in Hopkinton, but I suspect it was warmer there than in Boston. It might have been as warm as70 degrees.
It takes several minutes for all the corrals to get across
the starting line. There are about 8,000
runners in each wave. We walked until we
were within a few feet of the starting line.
Then everybody started running.
Most runners quickly accelerated to their race pace. I started running, but my pace was
considerably slower. Before long, there
were only a few runners around me.
Everyone else was moving down the road and quickly pulling out of sight.
As I started running, I found the downhill grade to be a bit
uncomfortable on my legs. I focused on
moving my hips. My legs gradually loosened
up, and running got more comfortable.
Since I was running a slower pace than the other runners in
my corral, I expected to be running by myself within a few minutes of
starting. Most runners pulled away, but
there were a few dozen runners who were also starting slowly. I was never alone, but I had quite a bit of
room to run. The early miles didn’t feel
at all crowded.
Toward the end of the first mile, I saw a spectator folding
up a sign that said 25.3 to go. That
seemed to be accurate. I finished the first mile in 9:11. That was surprisingly fast. I think that’s my fastest first mile of any
run this year. It’s worth noting that
the first mile was mostly downhill.
I didn’t have a target pace, but my pacing plan was to take
short walking breaks at each mile marker.
The first time, I walked for about 80 seconds. After that, I always walked for two minutes.
The walking breaks helped me dissipate excess heat. Without them, I would have overheated badly.
Whenever I walked, I took off my hat, so the breeze could blow through my hair.
By the time I reached the first water stop, I was already
noticeably thirsty. The volunteers were
pretty good about only filling the glasses about one third full. Most runners don’t want to drink too much at
one time. I realized I had to drink
aggressively to keep from dehydrating. I
was sweating like crazy. I drank a cup
of Gatorade, and then I drank a cup of water.
I did that at most of the aid stations.
Even with two minutes of walking per mile, I was going
surprisingly fast. My average pace in
the early miles was 10:30. When I did my
last long training run, I averaged 12:00 per mile, and that seemed too
fast. I knew my pace was unsustainable,
but I didn’t want to walk more than two minutes at a time.
About six miles into the race, the first few runners from
wave three caught up to me. They started
about 20 minutes after I crossed the starting line. At first, there were just a few of them. By seven miles, it was a steady stream. I no longer had the road to myself. Now I had to be careful to stay near the side
of the road. I didn’t want to accidently
step in front of a faster runner who was passing me.
By the time I reached eight miles, the road was crowded with
runners from the third wave. I was
careful to stay near the edge of the road so I wouldn’t get trampled by the
stampede of faster runners. Over the
next several miles, the disparity between their pace and mine gradually
diminished.
Somewhere around nine or ten miles, I started to notice some
wind. It was a head wind, and it helped
cool me off. I was in serious danger of
overheating, so the wind helped.
Around 11 miles, I started seeing familiar faces in the
crowd of runners. My cheetah print hat
and tights made it easy for my friends to spot me. First I saw Missy, then
Heather, then Jane and Dan.
At 12 miles, I started to hear screams in the distance. They were faint at first, but got steadily
louder. I was approaching the Wellesley
“scream tunnel.”
Wellesley College is a women’s college that’s right on the
course. All of the students line the
course and cheer. It’s tradition for
runners to stop for kiss. Many of the
students hold up creative signs.
More friends from the third wave caught up to me. I briefly sped up to run with my friend Jen,
but I couldn’t maintain her pace for long.
A few friends commented that they were struggling with the heat. Most of them were wearing shorts and
singlets. Imagine how hot I was wearing
tights and my warm hat.
The wind was getting stronger. Going through downtown Wellesley, I saw flags
blowing in the wind. They were blowing
straight toward us. The strong headwind
was tiring, but it was the only thing keeping me cool.
I reached the halfway mark in 2:21. That’s much faster than I expected, but I
still didn’t expect to break five hours.
I was already slowing noticeably, and I knew I would run out of gas in
the late miles. I stuck religiously to
my two minute walking breaks. My overall
pace was deteriorating, but as long as I was mostly running, it would be good
enough.
After 25K, I saw my friends Steven and JC in the crowd. My New York friends always watch from the
same spot, so I knew where to look for them.
Next, I crossed the Charles River and entered Newton. There are four hills in Newton. They aren’t really that big, but if you’ve
been running too fast, this is where you begin to feel it. The 16 mile mark was just after the start of
the first hill, so my walking break helped break up the hill.
As I reached the Newton Firehouse, I made a sharp right turn
and started climbing the second hill. I
was tempted to taking walking breaks during the hills, but I stuck to only
walking at mile markers. The next few
mile markers fell between hills, rather than during hills.
As I continued through Newton, I started looking for the
clocks. I knew a few friends who were
race volunteers. They were each
stationed at a different clock. At 30K,
I saw David from Maine. At 19 miles, I
saw Alison. At 20 miles, I saw
Elizabeth. Watching for my friends
helped break up this section of the course.
A few minutes before the 20 mile mark, I saw a banner on a
house that read “19.7.” They did their
homework. It was spot on.
I reached the 20 mile mark in 3:45. I knew at this point I didn’t need to worry
about the six hour time limit. I had
enough time to walk the remaining miles, if necessary. I was committed, however, to running as long
as I could.
I had one more hill.
Heartbreak Hill comes between 20 and 21 miles. Once I made it to the top, I knew the rest of
the course would have a downhill trend.
At 21 miles, I reached Boston College. I remember friends commenting about how loud
the crowds were here. I never noticed
before. This year I did. Running down the hill, I heard screaming that
rivaled the Wellesley scream tunnel. I
started to experience sensory overload.
At times, I started to choke up.
By now, the temperature was dropping and the wind was still
getting stronger. Earlier, I regretted
my choice to wear tights. Now I was
glad. Even with them, I was beginning to
get cold. I had to put on gloves.
With about four mile to go, we made the left turn onto
Beacon Street. The change in direction
brought some relief from the wind. It
was still strong, but we weren’t going directly into it.
Between 23 and 24 miles, I caught my first glimpse of the
Citgo sign. I would need to run for
several more minutes before I had a clear view of it. This sign outside of Fenway Park is probably
the most iconic sight along the route.
When you get there, you have exactly one mile to go.
In the last half mile, I reached the last two turns on the
course. Right on Hereford, left on
Boylston. You’re only on Hereford for
two short blocks, but it’s slightly uphill.
When I made the last turn onto Boylston, I could see the finish line,
but it took a long time to get there. I
just couldn’t pick up the pace.
I finished in 5:08:21.
I slowed significantly in the second half, but it was still my fastest
marathon since September. After crossing
the line, I had a small world moment. I
heard another runner call my name. It
was my friend Anders from Sweden. Even
in a race as large as Boston, you can bump into friends at random.
My legs were heavy, but I had to keep walking all the way
through the finish area. I declined to
take a water bottle. After drinking
aggressively throughout the race, I was all watered out. I eagerly accepted my sixth Boston finisher
medal.
I was also happy to get a heat shield. I didn’t check a gear bag, so I needed it to help
keep me warm until I got back to the hotel.
I had to take two trains to get to the hotel. Both times, it was standing room only. My legs could barely handle the sudden jolts
as the trains started and stopped. Then
I had to walk about half a mile from the train station to the hotel. The hardest part was going up and down long
flights of stairs to get out of the station.
In the days before the race, I was pleased with how well I
was walking. On the walk back to the
hotel, I saw my shadow and noticed how much my upper body was bobbing from side
to side. My hips were stiff, and I was
falling back into my old habit was walking without any hip rotation.
Later, I went to a post-race party at Boston Beer
Works. After such a grueling race, I
needed to celebrate with friends. I also
needed beer and pizza.
Walking to and from the restaurant, I really worked to get
my hips to work. Today, walking through
the airport, I noticed some improvement.
I’m not fully recovered from last year’s difficulties. I’m also not in shape yet. I’m happy to have finished this race, because
I really wasn’t ready. Hopefully, I’ll
keep getting better, but I only have five months to qualify for next year’s
race. It’s possible, but I don’t like my
odds. I ran this race knowing I might not
be back next year. That’s why running
this year’s race was so important to me.
