BOSTON MARATHON 2008

I approached the half way point, running side by side with my buddy Steve. We could hear far off in the distance an even louder cheering than the previous 13 miles. Up until this point, the course had been continuously lined on both sides of the road with cheering fans 1-2 people deep. The fans were experienced cheerers of all ages who offered water, oranges, popsicles, candy and an occasional beer. Children and adult hands reached out on both sides of the road for continuous high fives. But what we now heard from a mile away was different. Steve asked if I could hear it; similar to the roaring sound of Niagara Falls. My skin began to tingle in anticipation!

Not exactly sure what to expect, we finally reached the roaring cheer of the women of Wellesley College against the barricades at least 10 people deep. They stretched over the rail waving their traditional “Kiss Me” signs with open arms for at least 100 yards. They were so loud my ears rang as I ran through. I did not stop for a kiss though.

So, this is the Boston Marathon… I knew it would be an epic adventure from the moment I got to the airport gate-- at National airport Sunday morning April 20th--with my sister and nephew. We could easily pick out the runners travelling to Boston. They were the ones wearing running shoes, holding Gatorade bottles or wearing Boston Marathon race clothing from previous year’s races. We were 800 miles from the starting line and one third of the plane was filled with runners and fans. It was going to be an extraordinary race!

Arriving in Boston we checked into the Onyx, a sweet boutique hotel in Boston’s North End, walked to Faneuil Hall for lunch and then to packet pickup at the Hines Convention center. It was a mob scene as 25,000 participants picked up their race bibs, timing chips, shirts and bags of useless freebies that usually go directly into the trash. I bought a running jacket that 24,999 other people also bought and a long sleeve technical running shirt. Of course both were covered with 2008 Boston Marathon embroidery.

The pre-race carbo load pasta dinner in our hotel was simple and I was in bed around 9pm. But as usual before race day, I tossed and turned for hours. I may have gotten 5 hours of sleep before the 5:45am wakeup call. I had set up the coffee machine right next to my bed and rolled over to turn it on.

Race morning, Monday April 21st.
We took a bus 26 miles to the race start in Hopkinton. It was perfect weather, low 50’s and cloudy. Aside from some traffic at the highway exit, it was evident that this race had taken place 111 times before. We were efficiently ushered into a huge grass field where thousands of runners were relaxing. Some brought inexpensive disposable blowup rafts to lie on during the hour or so wait before the 10am start. I was with a group of Montgomery County Road Runners, whom I had been training with during the past months. We did weekend long runs together and Wednesday night track workouts. Many had done Boston before.

I tracked down my good buddies Scott and Steve and we eventually made our way to the starting line corrals for our wave start at 10am which was followed by a second wave at 10:30am. As we walked to the start we were entertained by a cat and mouse game of 100’s of runners going to the bathroom in people’s back yards, followed by dozens of cops chasing them down yelling. “Get Out Of There.” Someone in the crowd joked about whether overweight officers were really going to catch a marathon runner. But it was hilarious to watch everyone scurrying through bushes and woods. As Scott later mentioned, we all forgot about the pre-race jitters while watching the show.

The start was anticlimactic. The gun went off and we walked for about 4 minutes, finally crossed the start line, began to shuffle and then commenced to a slow jog. . The course was packed like nothing I had ever seen, making our first mile split of 7:40 extremely slow, especially since we were going downhill and would be for the next 16 miles. Within 400 meters, Scott in his dilapidated worn out black cotton tee shirt (probably from the 1970’s), went ahead. Steve and I ran side by side for 20 miles only briefly separating at water stops and then regrouping. We held a very comfortable 7:30 pace for those 20 miles.

Much of the course was arrow straight with occasional vantage points to glimpse for miles ahead and behind at the flow of thousands of runners as far as the eye could see. It was an incredible view that only reinforced the greatness of this race. The course was continuously lined with screaming fans, cowbells, bullhorns, signs and refreshments of all sorts. I looked forward to seeing my fan club at around mile 23. My fan club included my little sister and nephew (who flew up with me from home) and my aunt and uncle who live 2 blocks from the race course on Beacon Street in Brookline.

The miles flew by as Steve and I saw some amazing and sometimes entertaining things:

-The female amputee who was effortlessly cruising along at about a 7:45 pace. She had a very low bib number, which meant she probably had a much faster qualifying time than us, and was sponsored by Clif Bar.
-The wheel chair racer struggling backwards inching up Heartbreak Hill as the crowd screamed encouragement.
-One of thousands of signs, this one saying, “Release Your Inner Kenyan!”

I formulated my race strategy as we ran. I felt strong and as planned, picked up the pace at mile 20. My quads where feeling the 16 miles of downhill, but I still had a lot of fuel left in the tank and looked forward to the uphill terrain change of Heartbreak hill .5 miles ahead of me. It was cake and I actually had to ask a runner next to me for confirmation that it was in fact Heartbreak.

Mile 23 was approaching and I nervously looked for my fan club that I am sure had been waiting on the sidelines for awhile getting dizzy looking for me in the sea of runners. To make things easier I told them I hoped to pass them sometime between 12:30pm and 12:45pm and would be running on the right side of the road. I was right on schedule and it was over in the blink of an eye. I ran past never breaking stride, they saw and cheered for me, waving a big sign with my name and I was gone. They miraculously managed to snap a picture and short video as I cruised by.

I had picked up my pace a few miles earlier as Steve dropped back. I threw down a 6:25 pace for the remaining 6 miles of the race and made the final turn onto Boylston Street. I crossed the finish line strong in 3 hours and 10 minutes, had a new Marathon PR and qualified for next year.

I quickly went through the post race process of returning the timing chip tied to my shoe, receiving my finishers medal, picking up my checked bag (which had my cell phone) and tracked down Scott. He ran an amazing 3:07! My sister jumped on the T from Brookline and we met at a coffee shop where I limped in with sore quads from the downhills.

We took the T toward our hotel and were thrown into our final escapade of the day. As we rode on the T another marathon finisher who was probably in his late 60’s was standing next to me. Well, he decided to pass out and crumple toward the ground. I caught him with both hands and held him against the wall of the train. I shook him and spoke to him but got no response. Other passengers, especially my sister screamed that we were having a medical emergency. 15 seconds of unconsciousness later (it seemed like 15 minutes) the man lifted his head and stared at me wondering what was happening.

I sat him down and explained that he had passed out. We got him water as he was breaking out into a cold sweat; most likely from dehydration. At the next stop the trolley operator came back to our car, and confirmed we had things under control. Another guy on the train offered to get the man to his hotel and we got off at the next stop toward the Onyx.

I returned to my hotel room, started the bath, poured in the bath salts and soaked for 45 minutes. Afterwards, I went to the ice machine and filled up two large bags to ice my quads for an hour. I don’t think it helped. I was sore for days and found it particularly challenging to walk down stairs.

Boston lived up to its name of an epic race that anyone with the opportunity must experience, and my day was successful! My biggest fear leading up to the race was actually getting to the start line, not the finish. With so many injuries leading to disappointments over the past few years--causing last minute race cancellations, including an attempt to run Boston last year--I just wanted to get to the start. The rest fell into place.

As always, I try to finish these stories with a note about the next entry. It will detail the US National Duathlon short course championship in Richmond, VA. 6 days from today!