Boston Marathon
Before the Race
Once again, this report is being written well after the fact, so it may lack some of the usual detail. Additionally, since all I did before the race was go to the expo, walk around downtown Boston, and attend the pre-race pasta dinner, I really don’t have much to “report” about my pre-race preparations. I would be remiss, however, not to note how energizing it was to walk around town and see how big an event this is for Boston, and how enjoyable it was to meet runners everywhere – it is fascinating to hear their individual stories of how they came to run in the Boston Marathon and what it means to them.
Having been up too late the previous couple of nights (I didn’t arrive in Boston until after midnight, leading to a 3am “bedtime” early Sunday morning), I was most concerned about getting enough sleep Sunday night. I briefly considered going to one of the downtown theatres for the traditional pre-marathon movie, but I decided it was too late by the time I got back from dinner and opted for whatever was playing on HBO just to relax a bit before heading off to dreamland. I don’t suggest going into your last night sleep-deprived, but it did seem to help me get a good night’s rest (for a welcome change) before the race. I managed a good seven hours before waking, at 6am.
Since my race number (bib numbers are ordered by qualifying time) was just low enough to allow me the privilege of taking the later buses to the start line, I had plenty of time to get ready in the morning. I had a bite to eat, a shower, and still had plenty of time to check out and walk the grueling two blocks over to the buses. I should mention that I was very pleased with the service, and especially the location of the Swissotel, where I stayed before this race – it was conveniently located within easy walking distance of all of the events, and the staff was encouraging and helpful. As I left the hotel, I ran into another solitary runner, Marty McCarthy, from Miami, and we kept each other company through the rest of the morning.
One unfortunate feature of a point-to-point race is that the ride out to the start line (typically, as in this case, on a school bus) emphasizes just how far you have to run to reach the finish line! We finally reached the school in Hopkinton that is used to stage the runners, and filed out of the bus – reluctantly, as it was quite cool (low 40s) and windy outside. The elite runners were safely tucked inside the school, naturally, while the rest of us (about 18,000) occupied ourselves outside. There were two large tents set up, but because of what had seemed like a luxury at the time (our later departure on the bus), they were already packed with runners trying to relax and stay warm. Marty and I stood in line at one of the tents, more to be inside out of the cold than because we actually wanted anything they were offering. It was an effective strategy, because there were three lines feeding into the tent, and all came to a head in approximately the same area, so once you reached the front of the line, it was very hard to go anywhere. After getting something to drink, we’d had enough of standing in line, and headed back outside.
Mercifully, the wind had abated somewhat, and Marty had a PowerBar promotional garbage bag for us to sit on, so we were able to lie down fairly comfortably for 30-45 minutes. Then, it was time for another pre-race tradition: waiting on line for the porta-john. Amazingly (when you consider the number of runners), it was there that Brad Carpenter spotted me a couple of lines over. We had hoped to hook up before the race, but I had forgotten to bring his cell phone number with me. In any case, it was great to run into him and have a chance to chat a bit. I knew that Brad was much better trained for this marathon (not to mention more gifted, etc.) than I was, so it was a bit encouraging to find that the other three of us (Brad had met a runner from Chicago) had only done one 20-miler. Still, it was a bit sobering to learn that I was the only one of us that hadn’t qualified with a sub-3-hour marathon. We split up to get a few more minutes of relaxation before time to head to the baggage buses on the way to the corrals. Given how long Boston has been hosting this marathon (this was the 104th running), you might expect them to be very well organized – and you wouldn’t be disappointed. It was seven-tenths of a mile to the start line, and along the way you dropped off your bag at the appropriate window of a bus, labeled with your bib number.
Since my number was 4628, I was in the fourth corral – the other three guys were all in the first corral. I tried to sit down and relax as much as possible, since it was still 45 minutes until the start. I also tried to remind myself of my goals and expectations. I knew that I couldn’t equal my qualifying time (3:08), and because of my “light” training, it was doubly important for me to start out slowly and not be discouraged by the number of people who would be passing me (i.e. the people who would be expected to run the pace I’d be running were four or five corrals behind me) early on. It wasn’t long before the earlier races (handcycle exhibition and wheelchair competition) got underway, after which the removed the ropes separating the corrals and we all moved forward waiting for the start. Oh yes, just before that there was also the traditional singing of the anthem, followed by a fly-over by a pair of F-15 fighters – very cool! I’m not sure I appreciated the announcer’s comment that the jets would reach the finish line in less than four minutes, though :-)
The Race
As often seems to be the case in these large races, the start caught most of us by surprise. This was followed by the tedious, alternating walk/jog to the start. Since we the race uses the Champion chip, I really didn’t care how long it took to reach the start line, as long as we could run reasonably free from that point on. Well, that wasn’t quite the case, but after the first mile, which took me about an extra minute because of the crowded start, I was able to set my own pace. That pace was intentionally slow – I wanted to run no faster than a 7:30 pace, and more likely a 7:45 pace once we got through the early miles. The Boston course drops about 300 feet in the first four miles, which is way too early for my taste – I like running downhill, but only after warming up. From 1997, I knew that the early pounding your legs take going down those hills could add up. So, I tried to ease up and, most importantly, try not to get caught up in all the people passing me in those early miles. As I’d told myself before the start, I should expect to be passed by a lot of people because of the mis-match between my starting position and my target pace. Early on, I just tried to soak up the atmosphere and the energy from the crowd – both spectators and runners. I’d kept my gloves on because I had on a short sleeve shirt and it was still in the mid-40s with a sporadic, gusting wind, but they weren’t needed after the first mile, and I was really quite comfortable. A few times, as the sun shone through briefly, I wished I’d gone with a singlet, but most of the time I was quite happy with my choice.
One of the problems I’ve had with marathons is how easy it is to get discouraged by the number of miles to go – if you’re counting miles, the early ones seem so insignificant, while the later ones seem to take so long. I was able to try another tactic with this race, because they had the Champion chip mats at every 5K (in addition to the start and finish, of course). I tried to pay little attention to the miles, and instead concentrate on the next 5K milestone. By breaking the race into fewer, larger chunks, my progress seemed more consistent and each milestone more significant. Rather than pay attention to my individual mile splits, I simply tried to keep my effort consistent. In retrospect, it must have worked pretty well, as my 5K splits (except the first, because of the slow start and warming up period) were remarkably consistent through 18 miles. In fact, my 20-30K splits were virtually identical: 23:41, 23:40, and 23:41. Anyway, back to the race.
I felt like I was running a moderately difficult, but controlled pace. Naturally, I wished it was a faster pace, but I was determined to run a smarter race than I did in 1997 so that I could enjoy (as much as possible) the final miles this time.
There are so many people lining the course, it is just incredible how much that helps your attitude in the marathon. The highlight of the first half of the course is Wellesley College – you can literally hear the throngs of girls from a mile away as you approach mile 13. The noise is just incredible, and I think that the screams and lines of high-fives carried me through the next 5K. Now, you might think that the men enjoy a greater charge from this than the women, but I think not – everyone, men and women, comment on how much energy the students impart to the runners, and if anything, the women runners get the loudest cheers and the most encouragement. I’m amazed at the generosity of people all along the course, to stand out in any kind of weather and scream for hours on end! The unfortunate part is that Wellesley comes so early in the race – why couldn’t it be located somewhere after mile 20?
The middle miles melted away at a steady clip, as I tried to prepare myself mentally for the most challenging portion of the course: the Newton hills. They begin around mile 18, and culminate with the famous Heartbreak hill just past mile 21. Given my low number of long runs in preparation, I knew that this portion would be particularly psychologically, as well as physically, tough. It may seem strange, but here I tried to pay particular attention to how I was feeling. I just wanted to keep pushing on at a consistent level of effort, whatever pace that turned out to be. If I hit the wall, so be it, but I wanted to keep my mind occupied and not entertain any self-doubt. It was also like I put blinders on, focusing only on the upcoming terrain (at this point, I could really appreciate the downhill stretches, to lengthen my stride and “coast” a bit) and a few runners ahead of me. Starting back around the 25K mark, I was also passing other runners, a welcome change after my trial at the start. Anyway, the strategy must have worked pretty well, because I did not slow too much (about 15 seconds/mile) through this difficult stretch, and I didn’t even notice Heartbreak hill until after it was behind me!
From there to the finish, the course is predominantly downhill, and for that I was grateful. My legs were feeling quite sluggish (not quite that full-fledged “concrete” feeling of the wall, but close) and the headwind became stronger and more consistent. Perhaps willing myself to forget, I guess I haven’t noted this year’s race featured an unusual headwind of 10-15 mph; otherwise, the conditions were pretty much ideal, with temperatures in the upper 40s and overcast skies. Anyway, by this point you could see downtown off in the distance, and I just kept my eyes pealed for the famous Citgo sign at mile 25. I was able to see it before I expected, and it was helpful to have something to focus on, even if it did seem extraordinarily difficult to reach it. Once there, I knew I had won my own battle with the course, and felt incredibly relieved to not have been tempted to walk. In fact, between the cool temperatures and the amount of liquids I’d ingested in the middle part of the course, I skipped most of the water stops in the last 10K, and did not walk through any of them.
While I was unable to do the math to predict my finishing time based on the last 5K mat and/or mile marker, I did try to push my pace as much as I could to improve my finishing time. I was still passing people, and feeling good about a strong finish. By the time I turned onto Boylston Street and could see the finish line, I could tell that I wasn’t going to finish before 3:21 (I could make it out at 3:20:54), but I didn’t know how much less my “chip” (net) time would be, and so I pushed hard anyway, since I would only need a 3:20 to qualify for next year’s Boston (although I can’t see myself going two years in a row). I found out later that my official time was 3:21:33, with a net time of 3:20:09.
After the Race
I felt so exhilarated at how well I thought I’d run the race, especially compared to 1997, but the overwhelming feeling I had after the race was more basic: I was freezing cold. Walking through the finishers area, getting water and removing the chip to exchange for my finisher’s medal, all I really wanted was to get a mylar blanket and my bag for some warmer clothes. It was really quite a long walk to reach the bus with my bag, and I hoped my later finish would mean fewer people at my bus, but it didn’t quite work out that way. There was quite a crowd, and a rather impatient one at that, as we were all quite cold now that we’d stopped running. I heard that the temperature was still in the 40s and the wind chill down in single digits. At last, I was handed my bag and headed off for the last goal: a bag of food. After that, I was off to find someplace out of the wind, where I could get on my warm-ups and devour my food. There wasn’t much of that: a banana, chips, and a (new) Protein PowerBar. I felt tortured, however, as my hands were too cold to grip it well enough to open – I was about to go begging to a bystander, when I managed to get it open with my teeth. I don’t know whether it was my physical/mental state, the delayed gratification of getting it open, or if it really was that good, but it was excellent!
Now that my physical needs were sated, I sought to find my way back to the finish, where I hoped to meet Katie (who you may recall from my Cal International Marathon report), who was also running. I had talked to her on the phone on Sunday, but she was staying with a family outside of town and neither of us had transportation, so we hadn’t managed to meet. Katie had expected to finish in about 4:30, so I’d planned to wait until at least then to see if I could find her. I did wander around for about an hour, but as time went on, I had less and less hope that I could find her. I was still quite cold, so I headed back to the hotel for a shower. A couple more comments about the hospitality of the Swissotel: they had a nice fruit buffet and congratulatory signs for the runners, and opened their fitness center showers for all runners – both very nice gestures. At the time, I thought it was a good thing that I had plenty of time before my flight out of Logan at 7:30pm, because it turned out that there were only two showers, and quite a line of men waiting to use them. Still, I felt like a new man after a shower and some clean clothes.
I was able to easily get to the airport on the ‘T’, only to find out that my flight had been delayed. I had a leisurely dinner (pizza) and sauntered out to the gate anyway, since I had an e-ticket and wanted to get my boarding pass so that I’d feel like some progress was being made. As everywhere in Boston, there were a lot of other runners around, so we were able to relive our experiences while they were fresh in our minds. One very attractive middle-aged woman (I shouldn’t guess, but I’d say she was in her mid to late-40s) was particularly shocked at the finish. She’d been running with a younger woman through most of the race, but lost her in the last few miles. So, after she finished, she turned around to see if she could find her companion, and instead stood face to face with her ex-husband (who she had no idea was running, of course, let alone right behind her)! She may not have been thrilled to see him under normal circumstances, but she was pleased that he was behind her!
As the flight was delayed longer and longer, it was mildly amusing to see how I started to pay attention to the least interesting items playing on the “airport” CNN program. At least I was able to keep tabs on the Pens hockey playoff game against Washington, which they won 4-3 just before I boarded the plane. Three hours late, we were finally on our way back to Pittsburgh. I guess it was appropriate (or, at least, symmetrical) that I didn’t get back home until after midnight, or to bed until after 2am.
Despite my expectation that this would be brief, I seem to have rambled on quite a bit. I hope that someday I will appreciate having taken the time to write this, and I thank you for reading it. Most of all, though, I’d like to thank you for your generosity and encouragement. May you find the courage to embrace, and conquer, all of the challenges you face as you go through the race of life.
Tim