Boston Marathon Race Report - April 20, 2009

Where to begin!?!  I don’t know. How to write this up?  I don’t know. What to leave out, what to leave in? I don’t know.   I’ll just write and make it into a hodge podge.

There’s obvious disappointment in me, but I know what I did wrong, and am already itching to be at the starting line and get my sub-3 hour Boston Marathon in 2010.  However, that disappointment pales in comparison with the overall experience. (is it ridiculous that I’m emotionally charged up just typing this?)

To say that the Boston Marathon is bigger than life, is not an understatement.  Everyone there has met the standard imposed by the organizers.  Everyone is a proven runner before they even step onto the starting line.  I went to run Chicago, and even though, it has almost two times as many runners, (Boston 25,000), the chills and emotions don’t compare.   This is Boston.   THE BOSTON MARATHON.  It can’t be explained.

I refused to have any doubts that the weather would not be perfect.  I refused to even look at a weather forecast until 5 days before.  I just knew it would be perfect.  Mid 40’s, no rain.  And that’s exactly what we got.

The details of where things happened, what I did when, where I did what are still pretty blurry.  I can’t quite make out exact mile markers, but I’ll do what I can to squeeze it all in.

The bus finally arrived in Hopkinton, and I was fighting to keep the emotions in check.  So many miles, so many failed qualifying attempts, and finally I was there, ready to be accepted by the running gods into the Boston family.   The little town greeted us like superstars.  I mean, where else do you see a “Welcome to Hopkinton” written in kids chalk on the driveway!

I had two pace bands. One with flat 6:50’s for a 2:59:00, and one with adjustments to account for the course putting me in at 2:59:45.

At 9:30am, Bruce, Damon and I left the warm bus for the corrals for the 10am start.  A nice 10-15 minute walk.  You are joined by thousands of others walking to the corrals down the little road lined with white houses.  Some had tables out with free stuff for runners, water, Vaseline, tissues, oranges, all kinds of stuff.  Others just standing and greeting us, welcoming us to their town.  I struggled to keep composure while soaking it all in.  It was just too good to be true.  Bruce and I were in the same corral (corral 4 (of 25)) so we walked all the way up there without much talk.  Pretty quick, after taking off my throwaways, taking one last sip out of a water bottle, re-tying one shoe that felt just a tad too loose, and stretching out my knee (that had been giving me issues the last month), the f-16 fighter planes flew overhead, the anthem was sung, and “AND THEY’RE OFF” said the loudspeaker guy!   A quick good luck to each other, and Bruce and I parted ways pretty quick.  The pace was slow-ish, but since I was running with 1000 other people who had posted a 3:08ish to qualify, I had no doubts the pace would get underway quickly.  I pulled over and took a quick pee in the woods inside of mile 1, then caught up with Bruce pretty quick.  I was in no hurry, since I had specific goals, one of which was to NOT go out too fast, and keep the first 4 downhill miles in check.  The miles came up really quickly. I was feeling exhausted as is always the case in marathons for me.   But I knew I’d eventually start feeling great and just let the race come to me.  I had a water bottle, gloves, white tubes socks as arm-warmers, a sleeveless shirt and cap.  The arm warmers came off real quick.  Maybe mile 2?  The weather was perfect.

Mile 1-5 are not all downhill, plenty of rolling hills, plenty of ups, but clearly longer downs.  Regardless, all I focused on here was staying in control.  Got quite the scare within about 15 minutes of running as a side-stich appeared.  I just exaggerated my breathing, drank more water out of my bottle, and tried to calm down from the emotions, and after some rough miles it released and let go.

M1-5 -Actual(Goal) : 7:19(6:45) – 6:39(6:45) – 6:28(6:40) – 6:46(6:40) – 6:40(6:50) = 33:54 (goal 34:10) Assuming perfect Pace for the rest, I’m in for a 2:58:44

Miles 6 -10: 

Have I mentioned how incredible all the little kids are!  Families line the streets for miles and miles, all the kids holding out their hands, and you can’t help it but run on the side and just hold your hand out as you run by, slapping their hands and hearing “Yeah!” “I got one!” out of their mouths.  Simply priceless, and no energy wasted for me, since I’m just running along and not having to veer off course, and just feeding off their energy.  It’s was just fantastic.  How could I not?!  I would continue to do this for much of the marathon, at least in the first 15 miles.

Hundreds of families also had big events on their front yards, some grilling and covering the streets with fumes of bbq, or breakfast meats, or other delectable smells.  Others have their own tables out there and are handing out glasses of water, orange slices, wet paper towels, tissues.  The love for the runners is just unmatched. 

As we pass the 10KM mark, I think of all the people tracking me at home, as I thought of them at 5KM marker.  I’ve sat on a computer in prior years cheering my friends on, so I know they’ll see my times posted, and how freaking happy does this make me feel!  I’m just oozing from the love in my head, the support on the course etc.  Since I also nailed my time goal, I smile knowing people are not yelling at me to slow down!

At some point around here, I pass Team Hoyt. http://www.teamhoyt.com/  and slow down to run next to them for a few seconds.  I pat Dick on the shoulder lightly say :

“Thank you for insipiring the world”

and run away before my tears really start flowing.  Are you kidding me?  Can this marathon get more emotional today?!  Once I’m a good 50 meters ahead, I wipe the water out of my eyes and continue on.

Race wise, I don’t lose focus, and finally I start coming into my own in terms of pace.  I’m getting pretty warm, but I refuse to take my gloves or my cap off.  These are treats for later in the race when I need a “pick me up” and I’m certainly not going to do that this early.  The pace feels alright, especially since we’re a tidal waves of thousands pretty much running the same pace.  But this also has an adverse effect.  Since everyone is moving at a good clip, you sometimes get lulled to their pace, and forget to stay at your pace, so you constantly need to separate yourself from the comfort of running “with” people, and just run your race plan “along” sides of people.  I’m finding that my pace is slightly faster than most. Maybe 5 seconds per mile, but I’m pretty sure it’s the pace I know I need.   I’m still feeling tired’ish though with heavy legs and not light, free-flowing.  I just keep telling myself: “Let the race come to you, Mike, give it time. You’re at your best well into your long runs.   Just stick to the plan”.  Miles 5 – 10 come and go, a couple of gels at designated spots, and a slight change in electrolyte strategy to hopefully lighten the heavy feeling in the legs, has me taking my salts at 47 instead of 54 mins in.

Miles 6 -10 Actual (goal)= 6:47(6:50) – 6:50(6:50) – 6:52(6:50) – 6:55(6:50) – 6:55(6:50)

Assuming perfect Pace for the rest, I’m in for a 2:58:44

 

Miles 10 – 15

I keep plugging away, soaking in the crowds, the balloons, the old folks they’ve wheeled out from the retirement home,  the giant Boston bridge someone built and put in their front yard.  The bands, the Elvis impersonator, well, more like karaoke wanna-be elvis guy! Etc.  The legs are back, the feet are light, the running form is “glide”, and I’m in synch.   For the entire race I’ve been running the tangents like a true champion.  At one point, I do realize I’ve been missing my splits by a few seconds, and so I pick up the pace just a wee bit to get back on track.

Wellesley College is soon upon us, and over a ½ mile away you can hear the faint sounds of screaming.  I look over at some guys next to me and this conversation ensues:

me: Wow, I can already hear them!

Guy1: yep!

Guy2: They’re cheering for me!

Me: Shut the ufck up! They all know I AM COMING and they’re excited FOR ME!

Guys 2,3,4,5: *Chuckle*

Guy 6: In Hispanic accent: No no, they’re cheering for me, the Hispanic from Mexico.

 I didn’t even want to get into the “where are you from story” so I just let that one go, and kept running along, then conveniently pulled over towards the right.  The girls at Wellesley are out of control.  SCREEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAMMMMMM!!!!  And Kiss me signs everywhere.   Hysterical!  I don’t have time to stop and get me a kiss or seven, but I do hold out my hand and proceed to get 2,425 high fives tho.  Phew, what a rush of energy.    My half way time goal is 1:29:30, and I promise I did not slow down one step to hit the 1:29:29.  I smiled from ear to ear when I passed that, thinking.  BOOYAH!  The internet world has got to love that one!

Miles 10—15 Actual (Goal):  6:54(6:50) – 6:44(6:50) – 6:49(6:50) – 6:46(6:50) – 6:48(6:50) 15Miles: 1:42:19 (1:42:30) 11 seconds under goal.

Assuming perfect Pace for the rest, I’m in for a 2:58:49.

Mile 16 – 20:

Have I mentioned that even though I’m popping salts as planned, and eating as planned, I’m feeling thirsty?  I can’t figure out why I’m so thirsty.  The boston marathon has water every mile, and I’m grabbing water at EVERY MILE.  But I’m still thirsty. 

Mile 16 has a big downhill and strategy here is to not hold up and just take the pace the flow gives me, then take that and apply the gains to the hill that follows immediately thereafter.  I failed to click my mile marker in between the two, but it comes out to a 13:53, which is 13 seconds off pace for the two miles.  I’m not nervous, but I’m not feeling very good either.

I have now popped on my iPod and listening to music, and taken my gloves off.  ahh!  air on the figners!  We’re approaching the hills of Newton, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  Why am I so lethargic, yet feeling physically fit?  It’s getting a little ugly here, and I’m even grabbing waters off people, to gain more.   You know those movies where the hero comes out of nowhere and saves the world?  Well, this is where my coach saves the day.  He had told us he’d be on the course from 14’ish onwards and if he spots us, he’d run with us some.  All of a sudden, Steve magically appears at my side.  I tell him I’m not feeling too great, and later in the hotel he’d tell me that I looked the worst of anyone he ran with that day.  Lovely!  I tell him how I just had a calf spasm on me, and he can see I’m in the gutter mentally.  I can’t dig myself out of the funk, and he sticks to my side, just telling me to keep pushing, keep pushing, grabbing waters for me.  Telling me how Kevin looked strong, Mus, Larry and Ken are rocking up front too.  He’s here at my side for a good 3 miles of hill hell.  I don’t know what it is he said, or what he did, if it was heartbreak hill I was on, or what sparked it in me, but as I was headed for  disaster, I got angry, and picked up the pace up the hill, steve getting left behind by a few steps(he quickly popped right back and yelled: “There you go!”(or something like that).  DAMMIT.  I am hills.  I am not going to have my coach at my side. I am not going to let heartbreak hill take my ass down.  I have stomping to do for people.  I am passing people now.  Hills be dammed, I’m  back.

I’m glad I have that 2:59:00 paceband, because I know I have a minute to give if I just focus on that band, and after a slight freak out that I have given up a LOT of time, and I was now well over a minute over pace, I realize that’s the minute I have to give!  Steve runs with me all the way to the top, tells me to keep fighting and now I’m ready.  Dammit. I just crossed mile 20 at 2:59:54 pace, and this is where I begin.

 Miles 16 – 20 Actual (Goal) = 13:53(13:40) – 7:05(7:00) – 7:04(6:50) – 7:11(6:55)  20 Miles: 2:17:34(2:16:40) 54 seconds over goal, but 6 seconds under 3hour pace! All is not lost.

Mile 21 to Boston.

Mile 21 is still part of heartbreak, and I clocked a 7:19.  But then, I was ready. Mile 22 is a 6:56. BANG!  Here we go. This marathon is mine.  There is no doubt in me that I have the fitness in me.  I’m fresh, I've tossed my cap to the curb, I'm mentally rejuvenated, and there is no doubt in my mind that I’m going to execute!  I am going to run a sub 3 hour marathon!  How cool is this!  In Boston!  A tough course!

I cross the Mile 22 marker, and I am glowing.  This is what I’m trained to do.  ABC. A-always B-be C-closing, always be closing.  I’m a passing the dying.  I am performing… then 200 or 300 meters later, KABOOM, both calves tense up something fierce.  Are you freaking kidding me?!!?  Not this.  Not now.  I can do this.   I continue to fight but slow up just a teensie bit, hoping the calves will just go back to sleep again, I clock a 7:07, then a 6:57, with my calves napping, yet showing some signs of a light pulsation to let me know that they’re not happy.   I’ve popped the salts, and even the emergency salts I’ve discussed with my dietician.  It’s supposed to fix itself.

But then, with 2.2 miles to go, it’s simply too much for both calves.  They just don’t want to cooperate.  I’m pretty heartbroken over the next couple of minutes.  I ran well, I got myself out of the gutter and back into contention and now a stupid little issue has derailed the train.  Do I keep fighting and just run hard until the legs blow up big time, or do I ease up, take a nice Personal Record in Boston?  Either way, I’ll walk with my head held high, but I know what a full lockdown can mean.  I’ve been there before.  I’ve added 45 minutes to a marathon because of cramps.  Pretty quickly, I remember where I am, and what this is about.  This is freaking Boston.  Look around, Mike.  It’s mile 24, people are 4, 5 6 deep in the sidelines cheering you on.  Enjoy the moment as best you can.  I take off my headphones(not like I could hear the music anyway) I slowed down to what felt like a crawl after going sub 7 miles for ever.   But I’m trying to soak it all in.  I’m struggling to keep the tears in check.  I am going to be a Boston Marathon finisher.  These people are here for me.  I’m high fiving people as I go, gently turning over the legs… pushing them to go faster as best I can.  I know I shouldn’t but I want to look at my watch, I keep looking at it, and doing math.  I just have to.  It’s the competitor in me.  I want to see the watch go from 2:59:59 to 3:00:00.  I look up as this happens, and take a mental note of where I am on the course, because the next year, I will be back to fly right by that spot.

(photos taken the day before,obviously!)

300 meters to go or so, you turn onto Boylston, and there, in the distance is the finishline.  The road feels like it’s 10 lanes wide.   People are blowing by me like a sandstorm, but I don’t care.  I’m just happy and trying to process the emotions.  I eventually decide to run smack in the middle of the road.  I figure, the yellow line is straight, so that’s the shortest distance between here and there! (yes! Still have some comedy in me!)  I’m overwhelmed, the crowd is so noisy, but it’s quiet.  I don’t want this moment to end.  I run most of this last stretch holding my thumbs up in the air to thank the people.  40, 30, 20 10 yards to go, why does this have to end?  I cross the finish and raise my hand high  high up as a winner.

My watch says 3:03:08, the official time ends up being 3:03:06.

But it’s not over.  The volunteers afterwards are simply amazing.  I hear stories of volunteers at Ironmans, and this must be what it’s like.  Everyone congratulating you.  Everyone smiling, everyone ready to give you whatever you need.  Space blanket, tape to keep it on you, one volunteer gladly helped tuck the back of it into my shorts to keep the wind from blwoing it up.  Water bottles, bananas, Gatorade, bags with food, every single volunteer is like an angel, congratulating you, not just giving you something and asking you to move along.  I eventually reach the drop bag pickup buses and you first reach the high corral numbers, so those people don’t have much to do.  But what do they do instead of just sit around and wait.  They get eye contact with you, congratulate you and even clap their hands to applaud you for your effort.   

I can’t wait to be back.

So what happened? I made a fatal mistake.  The love of starting off with a bottle in hand to avoid the crowds in the first few aid stations got the best of me.  I know damn well that bottle should only have lasted 4 miles.  But instead, I sipped on it, and still had it in hand at mile 10.  A quick review with my dietician via email quickly reveals I only got in 1/3 of the water I need in those 10 miles, so there was no way to ever catch back up.  I got caught up in the greatness of the event, and made a mistake.  It is what it is.  Never again will that be an issue for me, and hopefully not for you either.

You can see from the premilinary photos i posted earlier that I'm in great spirits, I am pretty fresh, holding my thumbs up in the air, and have accepted that I am not allowed to go any faster.  It's all good!  I got to enjoy more of it!

 Did I mention that I can't wait to be back!?