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RAW Headwinds and Rain, But It’s Still the Boston Marathon!
Boston was my target race for the spring
of 2015. My training was solid: steady mileage, staying healthy, oodles of
speedwork at paces I hadn't touched in some time. I had not done a formal marathon
training plan since Boston 2013, with the interim two years focused mainly on
ultras. In January, I joined a 14 week training program specific to Boston
(Boston 365 out of the Fleet Feet in Sacramento, coached by SRA Elite and stud
runner Charlie Brenneman). The group workouts pushed me and pushed me good. I
walked into Boston more fit than I've ever been. I had dropped weight since
January and was at racing weight; I felt light and strong. Mentally, there was
no taper madness. I was calm; I knew my skills. My anxieties were long gone. I
was eager, I was excited, I was ready. My word for 2015 is Courage, a mantra I
decided to live by for the year. I chose Courage, feeling there were too many
things I was afraid of, fears that I needed to conquer, anxieties to squelch. A
few weeks before heading to Boston, I realized I no longer needed the Courage I
had sought. My fears, my anxieties - they were gone. I was trying new things, I
was facing my fears, and they no longer bothered me (yes, I even held and kissed
an alligator in this process....). I let go. So I was relaxed heading to
Boston. After years of facing races with an overwhelming sense of anxiety,
there was none to be had. I was excited and grateful to have the opportunity to
return for my third Boston!
The week before
the race was a bit more hectic than planned. On Saturday 4/11/15, after
wrapping up my last long run (13.1 with 8 at MP- solid, solid, solid), my
husband called. He had crashed his bike and figured he had broken his right
clavicle. He was with other cyclists (but an hour away), though found someone
to take his bike to the car and then take him to the hospital. I met him there
later, x-ray confirmed the diagnosis (though the film looked more like a
shrapnel injury than a bike crash; 36 mph to 0 is not recommended...) Meds and
sling until Monday. He was fortunate to have his head intact; another helmet
cracked. Being a physician, he was able to pull some strings, saw the Ortho
shoulder specialist Monday, with surgery scheduled for Tuesday afternoon. Our
flight to Boston was set for Thursday night. Everything went smoothly (save for
post anesthesia sickness) and a plate and 11 screws later, at least he felt his
arm and shoulder were more stable. By late Wednesday, my husband felt better and
we were back on schedule, with him even managing to attend a Boston send off
event for my training group. There were a few nursing duties, but calm
remained. You take what the world gives you, throw in a dash of optimism, and
move forward. We departed for Boston as planned Thursday night with our girls.
Pre race
involved get togethers with various friends and family: dinner with Jen and another runner Laurie that I
met last year, lunch with Vicki (who I had meet at Boston 2013), lunch with my
cousin Julie and friend Glenn (who I ran Boston 2014 with), the Sox game with
Julie, a pre race dinner with the extended family on Sunday night, and
spectating the BAA 5K. Many of my friends running Boston were also running the
5K, along with my family. I was the official bag holder- not a bad job when you
are joined by the likes of Shalane Flanagan (yes, she was hanging out by
herself on a corner of the Boston Common - a good luck greeting and photo was
perfect!). My 14 yo daughter set her 5K PR (and beat her dad's 5K PR in the
process!). The race was originally going to be their show down. Instead, my husband
and his sling walked/ran with my uncle to grab a PR for my uncle. My aunt had
passed away in January; I had last seen her at Boston last year, so she will always
be part of Boston for me, just as my father is.
My goal for
Boston was 3:30; I suppose that's really 3:29:59 or faster. My PR is 3:26, but
at Napa. So while I think I could drop a PR at many other courses right now, I
have a certain amount of respect for Boston. I ran a PR there in 2013 (3:39),
while opting for a celebratory race in 2014 (the best race I've ever had;
there's no better atmosphere to just savor the day). The strategy was a 1:43
opening half and a 1:47 back half; I figured I needed a couple of extra minutes
for the Newton Hills (miles 16-21). As the days passed, the weather forecast
for Marathon Monday was steadily deteriorating. Originally rain after 2 pm was
predicted earlier and earlier in the day. The temps looked manageable (low to
mid 40s to the low 50s); I don't do well in heat, but also don't care for
humidity (rain is about 100%, right?). I had run Napa in high humidity, warm
temps, and eventual rain and fared well. Might be okay. But then, the wind?
16-21 mph E. Hmm, is that a tailwind if I'm traveling East? No, that means
winds coming FROM the East to the West - i.e, headwind along the whole course.
The rain would not be the issue. New England weather forecasters have a term
for this, "RAW". Yes, this was
actually on the news. RAW. WTF?!? (My cousins were later amused that I didn't
know what RAW meant in the forecast!)
I met up with
Jen, Laurie, Michele, and Glenn at 6 am on Monday and we boarded the buses at
Boston Common to head out to the Athlete's Village. We had planned to hang out
in the shot put cage, but thankfully, Jen opted for one of the large tents, as
the skies did not look good, it was cold (42 degrees, feels like 37), and
already windy. We were fortunate to have arrived at the village early to secure
a spot to lay down our mats and garbage bags. Within a half hour, the skies
opened up in Hopkinton; it was pouring and windy. We discussed race strategy;
we were pretty much planning to stick to our goals and go for it. Hey, if we
fell short, it was already expected because of the weather. There was nothing
to lose. It's the Boston Marathon! You only get so many of them. I have a
little stone with the word Courage on it that I picked up in Japantown in
January; I've put it in my back pocket for a few big races this year. While I
love the symbolism of the courage in my back pocket, I purposely left it in the
hotel room. I didn't need it anymore as an external entity. On my arm, I had
two bracelets: hope. and endurance.
(Hope is my aunt's name; Endurance is self explanatory in a marathon, but also
about resiliency which is Boston.)
The rain broke
and we eventually made our way to the starting corrals. Our throw away clothing
was kept on until the last possible moment as it was quite cold and windy. A
gal in my corral took the jacket I discarded to run with for the first few
miles. Some people never discarded their throw away clothing or garbage bags;
it wasn't quite the CIM monsoon year, but it was far from ideal running
conditions. I took a few pictures in my corral, put my phone away, and that
would be it for the race. The photos in my mind would have to suffice. I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Shitty
weather be damned! I was about to run the Boston Marathon and I was going to
enjoy it! I was ready to push myself and take it all in! I was running this
year solo, no music, just the crowds of my fellow runners and the crowds of
spectators to carry me along.
I crossed the
start line a bit after 10:28 am from wave 2, corral 6. I had a Boston specific
pace band to follow, giving me a sense of which miles should be faster and
which would have some hills, looking at this each mile to keep me in check. The
first mile is always fairly congested; I don't think you can run it very fast
even if you tried. I just went with the crowd, careful to not expend energy
weaving and bobbing. I focused instead on the spectators, who were thick in
Hopkinton, despite the crap weather. I was happy to be moving as I was quite
cold. My plan was to keep my throwaway gloves for a couple of miles until I
warmed up. The first mile was done in 8:11. That's what I wanted to start. As I
warmed up and the running crowd became slightly less so, I picked up my pace
(plan was 7:45-8 for the first half and 8-8:15 for the second half, save
Heartbreak). Three miles in when it was time to start eating, I took off my
throwaway gloves. I tucked them into the side of my Spibelt. I figured if they
stayed there, it wouldn't hurt. (I had a flashback to Jen during the freeze CIM
2013, regretting dumping her gloves early in the race. This was coupled with
recalling how cool Boston could get as you hit Brookline and then Boston proper
with the winds, as well as a forecast that was supposed to deteriorate
further.)
There was a
light rain and light winds; it was cool. The rains would progress as the race
did, as would the winds, making the race colder as we traversed the eight
cities to Bolyston. I ate every three miles like clockwork- 3 power gel blasts,
taking in water at the next two aid stations, then a gatorade at the third
before starting the process again. It was more than I've consumed in any other
marathon; I followed the plan I was given to try to ensure I did not bonk from
nutrition. There were fewer spectators due to the weather conditions, but it
was really only noticeable in the outer towns. The town centers were thick with
crowds, cheering adults and children offering oranges, Popsicles, twizzlers,
high fives, and encouragement by the boatload! The areas in between were a bit
quieter. There were fewer parties on front lawns. But still, there were more
spectators than in any other race. During my third running of Boston, I was
able to pick up on set signs and set spectating parties at set locations. I
loved the familiarity. The crowds did not disappoint. My name for the day was
"USA" as that's what was on my tank top in bright neon yellow to
match my shorts. As I'd run by, people would call out "Go USA!" or
start chants of "U S A, U S A, U S A!!!" I'd chosen the perfect shirt
for Patriot's Day! When I had the energy, I'd raise my right fist and pump it
to the chants with them! There is no better race to be able to engage the
crowds and to help propel you along.
Miles 1-6: 8:11, 7:56, 7:47, 7:33, 7:52, 7:38
5K 24:47 (7:58); 10K 48:55 (7:52)
While I was
running Boston for time this year, I was also cognizant of the lessons of 2014.
The ability to celebrate that race was immeasurable. So I would expend the
extra energy to celebrate as well - an occasional high five, extra thanks to
the volunteers at the aid stations, responding to the crowds when they called
out to me, and lots and lots of smiles along the way. I can't help but feel
chills as I run Boston- the excited, happy kind, the kid on Xmas morning, the
first kiss. My heart is full; it's overflowing. I am working hard to be sure,
pushing my physical limits, staying in tune with my race plan and my pacing.
But I run this race with nothing but utter joy. Sure it's raining and I'm
soaking wet, the wind is brewing and periodically giving me a swift kick in the
face, I'm colder than I should be. But I would endure worse, much worse,
physically, to have the pleasure only Boston can provide. I figure if the
spectators can show up and stay out in this shit, well so can I! The miles keep
ticking along and the cities keep passing by- I pass Santa around mile 7, Elvis
hanging out and singing in Natick at mile 10 (was that Vegas-like Welcome to
Fabulous Natick sign always there?). I pass inspirational runners or they pass
me: several blind athletes, wheelchair athletes, runners on prosthetic legs.
The Scream Tunnel at Wellesley can be heard from the start of mile 12. As I
approach the college, I'm looking for my sign; they made me one, "Run,
Rhino, Run!" The signs were a bit wet, so that may be why I missed mine,
or maybe just the sheer volume of signs to scan? I'd hate to run Boston and
skip the kisses at Wellesley altogether; no regrets, you know. I have to find
just the right, "Kiss Me, I'm Blank"
sign; so many choices!!! I settle on a gal from Los Angeles (no luck in
finding a Northern Califormia girl, and I did once live there!) and one from
Little Rhody (that's Rhode Island - where I was born) for my two kisses of the
day. Greetings, celebrations, and continuing on! (That was still with running a
7:50 mile, mind you!)
Miles 7-13: 7:35, 7:51, 7:52, 7:54, 7:49, 7:50
15K 1:13:09 (7:50), 20K 1:37:45 (7:51), 13.1 1:43:04 (7:51)
I'm right on
pace through the first half. Nutrition and fueling are good. I'm feeling
strong. I'm managing the weather. I'm taking in the experience. As I hit
downtown Wellesley, I'm on the lookout for some locals I met on the T the day
before; 30 + minutes crammed in on a T can make fast friends. It was a gal with
her daughter and her daughter's friend (who were my younger daughter's age).
They aren't runners, but come out and spectate the race each year, cheering on
random strangers. They are the heart of New England on Patriot's Day! I spot them through the crowds outside the
town library- give my shout out to Sarah and the girls, which they return with
excitement! Raining, but my heart is soaring! Next up, it's time to find my
friend Brad who said he would be between miles 14-15. He is in my running group
at home and his wife is running Boston. I spot him cheering and clicking away
with his camera just before mile 15. I get a quick bear hug from him and get a
bonus greeting from Dave (Brad's friend that I've hung out with a few times). I think the
random strangers and volunteers on the Boston course can provide all the
support one might need, but it's a power surge to have your own support crew on
hand! The heart of mine was coming up just before mile 17, right after I
conquered the first of the Newton Hills. Just after mile 16, I pass the sign to
Providence, getting a bit teary with thoughts of my aunt and my father. A short
bit later, I am scanning the crowds past the hospital for my crew. They are in
the usual spot, soaking wet. I hug my cousins Julie (a veteran spectator and
Framingham resident) and Nichole (on my mother's side, spectating her first
Boston, coming up from Rhode Island for the day), my uncle Cap, my daughters,
and my husband. My 14 yo is emotional as I hug and kiss her, telling me she
loves me. I guess it must be raining quite a fair amount as I get wet hugging
them; the pictures I saw later confirm that thought. I am bolstered by their
energy and their pride in me; I'm so grateful they are tolerating pretty bad
spectating conditions for my sake. I look forward to seeing them again at mile
25, but first the rest of the Newton Hills await!
The second
Newton Hill hits during the 18th mile. Last year and in 2013, ice and a
Popsicle save me through this hill, as the warmth of each day and the energy
expended hit. There was still a guy half way up the hill offering ice and
random kids offering Popsicles; I passed - I was chilled enough! Though not my
slowest mile of the day, I do feel in retrospect, that I worked harder that
mile to stay focused and to maintain my pace than Heartbreak. Mile 19 offers a
breather in between the Newton Hills. Unfortunately, this becomes where the
weather worsens. Already, it has steadily been raining, I am soaked to the
core. Much of the race has been about avoiding the puddles that are increasing
in size on the road, trying to not have completely sloshed in shoes (an
unsuccessful feat given the copious amount of potholes from New England
winters). The wind has been present, but only with periodic stronger gusts, so
manageable. The temps are probably in the mid 40s, but “feels
like” is dropping steadily. The rain kicks up and the winds slam
me in the face. I think I might finally be experiencing the 20 mph headwinds.
Wait! I got it! This is RAW!!! I start to get gradually colder and colder. At
least this section through Newton is teeming with spectators to cheer us
through the hills; they are not deterred by the weather. We will all
persevere! The third Newton hill is gone
and I hit the 20 mile mark (2:39) – just barely holding on to the pace I
need for my 3:30. At last, Heartbreak Hill stretches out before me. It will not
take me this day – not the hill, not the wind, not the
rain, nothing! I’m working hard but make it up
Heartbreak, dropping my slowest mile for the race – but
still a fantastic 8:45 (beating this mile by 0:45 over 2013). The end of
Heartbreak is never quite as glamorous as you want it to be. I know by my watch
that I have crested the summit, but there are only a few murmurs by the
spectators and a small sign on the left side of the road to signal its end.
Mile 14-21: 7:58, 8:07, 7:44, 8:23, 8:24, 8:00, 8:27, 8:44
25K 2:02:42 (7:53), 30K 2:28:32 (7:58), 35K 2:54:50 (8:02)
A quarter mile
after the summit of Heartbreak Hill, I reach Boston College. This is the time
to pick up the pace and leave anything I have left out on the course. I have been
shivering for a couple of miles since RAW hit at mile 19. I finish up some more
food at mile 21. I have decided I am done eating because an attempt at warmth
is more vital at this juncture. I know my manual dexterity to get food out of
my belt will be gone the minute I revisit the gloves. The white wool throwaway
gloves are soaked; I wring them out as best I can and thread them through my
fingers on to my hands. Yes! That is so very much better and warmer. The goal
has become to push the pace and avert hypothermia. Full race mode is on! The BC
kids are quieter this year, but the ones who are braving the elements are still
their usual drunk selves. (The win goes to Wellesley this year for volume; BC
won for me in 2013 and 2014). They provide a few “USA” chants. I push to take advantage of
the slight descent, while returning what cheers I can. Somewhere in the past
few miles, I have discovered the road and am working on actually running the
tangents (in the past I have always found Boston so congested, making it nearly
impossible to see anything that would allow for running of the tangents).
I am flying for a bit. Man, it hurts; my
quads, my hips, I can feel it! But finally, I have hit this part of the race
and I have something left to give (this is where I fell apart in 2013). I make
it to Cleveland Circle, thinking of my aunt who had been spectating there last
year. I am just giving whatever I have left. The winds are fighting me, the
rains are continuing, but the love remains on course and that still holds more
sway. Brookline was a wasteland in 2014 as runners started to fall off and
struggle due to the heat. Brookline again is a wasteland in 2015 as runners
struggle with the weather and impending hypothermia. I am passing red bibs (1st
corral; they started 25 minutes before me), garbage bag clad runners, the
walking wounded. Each mile has a medical station – they are dispensing heat sheets like
candy. I am freezing, but it’s too early to make that fashion
statement. In this stretch, I spot and pass Michele, trying to encourage her. I
continue forward, towards Boston.
Mile 22-25: 7:58, 8:05, 8:11, 8:19
40 K 3:20:41 (8:04)
Just before mile
25, you cross over the Mass Turnpike with a glimpse of Fenway on your right and
the famous Citgo sign up on the left. The crowds have been thick through
Brookline, but they cannot match the energy and mass of Boston proper! My
family will be somewhere in this next mile, so I am heavily scanning the crowd.
I am well aware of where I am in terms of the clock. I know the sub 3:30 will
not be mine today; I will finish a minute or two over that goal. There might
have been times when this would signal some disappointment for me. It is not
during the 119th running of the Boston Marathon though; it is not
April 20th, 2015. I’m not even sure that that sense of
disappointment still exists within me. Perhaps it was replaced with gratitude
long ago. I know my effort was spot on and I know I ran a solid race from start
to finish. I pushed in challenging conditions and still managed to absorb all
that Boston signifies for me over those hours. I finally spot my family near
the Kenmore station, going up to them, hugging each one briefly before running
on. In the video captured by my sling man husband, he’s
telling me to not stop and go on; I explained later I knew where I was and the
hugs were well worth the added time. I head on down the final underpass as a
text comes across my watch: “Bolyston look left.”
I had warned my cousin Andrew that texts would appear on my watch, but only
three words. I take the right on Hereford for the final hill, staying to my
left (whoops – missed my uncle Walter, cousin Mary-Ellen, and her daughter
Emma Hope in the process as they were on the right; I was looking for them with
the mile 25 crew). I take a tight final
left turn on to Bolyston. My cousin Andrew and his wife Erin are cheering
outside a bar on my left, helping with a final push on my journey!
Bolyston is wide
and open ahead of me for the final stretch. I return to my preferred right side
of the road to engage the crowd. This time I initiate the “U
S A” chants and they come along with me for the ride! I shout, “I
love you Boston!” This is joy. This is love. This is
gratitude. This is the only place I ever want to be on the 3rd
Monday in April. I am moving with the energy of the crowd. I cross the finish
line at the F, arms raised, large smile on my face. Thank you!
Mile 26: 8:34, 0.47 – 7:46
Official: 26.2 3:32:05
(8:06)
#352/1985 AG F40-44, #2767/12022 F, #10830/26610 OA
As in prior
years, Bolyston quickly becomes a wind tunnel the minute you cross the finish
line. I was already shivering in the final miles, so this worsens. I exercise
patience and thank the volunteers giving out water, thank Sandy who puts my
medal over my neck, and smile for my post race photos. But, I find my angel who
wraps a warm race cape around me. I am fortunate to be a couple of blocks from
my hotel and warm up within minutes of stepping indoors (though my shoes stay
wet for days). The day concludes in perfect fashion with a dinner for 13 with
my family in the North End and a final mint chip cannoli from Mike’s
Pastry with champagne. I can’t wait to continue the tradition in
2016. While missing my ideal goal of 3:30, I did set my PR at Boston
(previously 3:39 from 2013), clocked my 3rd fastest marathon of 16,
and obtained another Boston qualifying time (BQ-12:55), which gives me the
ticket back for next year. More importantly, I had a wonderful celebration for
26.2 miles with the fine people of Boston and my family and friends!
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