Patriot's Day: Reflections on My First Boston April 15, 2013



     It's taken me a while to get here. So much so, that I had to my option of viewing the movie "Patriot's Day" either 30 minutes South or 30 minutes Northeast of home. I decided I should finally see it. I've been reluctant. I've been unsure of what memories it might stir up for me, of how I might emotionally manage the spike. There are events and circumstances that change who you are. For my generation, you recall where you were when the Challenger exploded, when the World Trade Center towers imploded and fell, when the Boston Marathon was bombed. I was in the 8th grade in class at Redwood Middle School, I was at my last house overlooking the lake watching the Today show getting ready for work, I was a quarter mile away in Boston. I was fortunate: those I knew and loved in Boston that day were safe. Those who came to spectate for me on the occasion of my first Boston Marathon were safe. My family was with me, we were safe. Others were not physically safe that day. Most of us, at a minimum, were emotionally changed that day.  Running, racing, something I viewed as therapeutic, calming, life invigorating, had changed. Something that provided me with immense joy had changed. The races I would attend in the subsequent weeks (Big Sur, Bay to Breakers), the races I would attend in the subsequent year, my next Boston, all my subsequent larger marathons, had changed. I continued to run, I continued to race, but I was different. Of course, I ran on. I'm defiant and obstinate. But, things changed after April 15th. There was a conscious choice to run on, a conscious choice to choose to not live in fear, a conscious choice to opt for love instead.

     In spite of that conscious choice, your emotions are what your emotions are. The worry, the sadness, the emptiness stay with you. I know I worked hard to fill in better emotions: gratitude, joy, love. But memories pull you back. Pictures, photos, videos, they draw you in. You keep the conscious choice of hope. But your brain, your heart sometimes still gets rattled. And so, yes, there are things about that day I don't opt to go back to. Because it's still hard. So avoiding the movie was logical. It was logical. But I don't want to live in fear of those emotions, so I finally saw the movie. The beginnings were hard. I just watched and I cried. The movie then drifted into the aftermath, as the focus on the manhunt allowed me to disconnect from the emotion and the story of being there. I was just a movie goer watching some entertainment. It's not that simple, is it? The snippets from Boston officials and survivors at the end pulled me right back to those days, back to the emotions. The fear, the anger, the sadness, the dread. But I was already crying as the lead character talked about Love; that Love is what you fight back with.
 
     So love, it's what I return to Boston with each year. It's what I feel when I'm there - from my family, from my friends, from my fellow marathoners, from the fine people of the eight cities along the course of the Boston Marathon. The circumstances of my first Boston are what drew me back in 2014. I thought I needed closure. I thought I needed some emotional healing. I needed to repair.  But I think, it's something more that draws me back now. It's something about that love, that joy, that celebration of all the small and wondrous things that make us feel alive. It's sometimes so hard to define, to express. This year, I return for my 5th Boston Marathon in April. There is no other place I want to be each Patriot's Day. 

What follows is my race report from my first Boston:     



 

 

Boston 2013: The Experience of a Lifetime (Until It Wasn't)

 

The Before

Starting this is the hardest part, because I keep getting stuck on The After. I qualified for Boston last June 2012 at Ojai 2 Ocean, having a great running day and a 14 minute PR (BQ-3:45). I thought my time would be closer or that I might need a few more tries to get the BQ, but lucky marathon #7 did the trick. Registration for Boston went swimmingly thanks to the tightened time requirements, making me a happy camper in September when I was able to officially register for my first Boston. Part of the desire was achieving the Holy Grail for common runners, but also coming home, in a sense (I was born not far away in Rhode Island).

I was emotional about running Boston in the weeks before the race – with a strong mixture of excitement and nervousness. I was just hoping it would live up to all the hype. I knew I had done the training (Pfitz 12/55+, averaging 50 miles/week in the past 12 weeks, hitting the tempo and speedwork paces, staying healthy), and it was just time to celebrate it at Boston. I had some lofty goals (and now realize there’s a reason you might not want to try to PR at Boston), but was mentally ready and confident in my abilities. My husband and daughters (10, 12) and I flew out of Sacramento on Friday 4/12/13 midday, arriving in Boston and at our hotel near 1 am Saturday 4/13/13.

There was a Runner’s World shake out run to leave the New Balance store on Boylston on Saturday at 7:30 am; I figured I’d consider it if I was awake. I didn’t sleep much after the flight and was awake in plenty of time to make the run. It was freezing though (well, nearly at 36 degrees); thankfully I had packed arm sleeves and calf sleeves and throw away gloves just in case Marathon Monday was chilly – I used them a couple days early. I arrived on Boylston even early for the run, so made my way to the Finish Line, walking on it and snapping a couple of pictures (they didn’t paint it until a few hours later). The shake-out run was fun, getting to socialize with fellow Boston marathoners (everyone’s journey to Boston is different) and some RW staff. I particularly enjoyed hearing about Glenn’s prior Boston marathons (he is in the same running group as a RW online friend in San Jose; I presume he was safe, based on his time). I finished the shake out run with a brief detour to run a half a mile along the Charles… since that’s what a runner should do in Beantown.

The unfinished Finish Line.

 

After my run, my family and I attended the expo, which was crazy crowded even before 10 am! I picked up my jacket, as well as Saucony Kinvara 4 limited edition green and yellow Boston shoes (yes, I wear stability shoes – but I couldn’t resist – figuring they could be casual shoes or work for 5Ks or under). Our hotel (The Revere) was about 0.4 miles from the Finish line, so we pretty much walked everywhere in town, just getting on the T later. The afternoon on Saturday was spent at Fenway, taking in the first Red Sox game for all of us with my cousin who lives in Framingham. It was freezing and I’m not a baseball fan, but the crowd and energy was amazing and now I know what “Sweet Caroline” means to Red Sox fans. We managed to sneak into a cute Italian restaurant on Newbury St on our way home for my carb loading dinner. I slept wonderfully that night.

My daughters and husband after the BAA 5K.

Sunday was the B.A.A. 5K run first thing. I was the cheerleader and spectator for my daughters and my husband. I watched the elites start off, then waited for my family to come through a few blocks up from the start. By the time I reached the finish line, the lead wheelchair racer was nearly there. From my vantage point across from the grandstands, I was able to enjoy spectating the elites sailing through, followed by my husband, my 12 year old, then finally my 10 year old. I captured pictures of each of them near the finish line, though my pictures are obscured by the poles of the national flags I was standing beneath. My 12 yo was closest to her PR by a few seconds, but running with 6500 people was a challenge, especially without any formal corrals. While they cleaned up, I returned to the Finish area to spectate the 1K for middle schoolers (male and female, 2 from each of the 8 towns on the course), as well as the mile for the high schoolers, then the elites for the mile. I managed to procure a front row spot in the grandstands (no tickets for this event) and few feet past the Finish line. There were some exciting and inspiring races! We spent the rest of the day walking the Freedom Trail. This was perfect for my 10 yo who is studying this history in school right now. I’ve been to Boston innumerable times, but have never followed the Freedom Trail, so it was a treat for all of us. The evening ended with dinner at my cousin’s home with my aunt, uncle, and another cousin… she kindly fulfilled my prerace dinner of chicken and vegetables. Then off to sleep for me!

My youngest daughter (in pink) steps from the Finish Line as I spectate the 5K in front of Marathon Sports.

 

 

The Race

            Race day started early after some sleep (not much, but actually better than my usual pre-marathon sleep). Headed out the door  of my hotel at 5:45 am for the couple block walk to Boston Common. Able to get on the second set of buses. Met Vicki in line, who would be my seat mate on the bus and my companion at the Athlete’s Village for the morning. She’s an inspiring mom of 7 from Spokane aiming for 3:30 (which she made). The drive to Hopkinton didn’t seem that long. I was amazed by the scale of the Athlete’s Village, getting emotional as I walked around (even though the area would fill up with 10-20 times as many people in the next hour and change). I did find the Hopkinton start sign and managed to get my picture there before the lines went wild. Ate my breakfast, relaxed a bit, visited the sea of porta-potties. Checked in with Jen (a friend from RW online that I had not yet met in person) via text, though reception was a bit spotty. I did eventually find her in the Shot Put area and we chatted for a bit – wonderful to finally meet her and get to hang out!

(for my father)

 

            After a while, I headed towards the starting corrals, parting with Vicki at the bag drop. I started to get emotional again walking down the road, just in awe of all the people and this very special morning. I waited near the final sea of porta-potties around the corner from the start line, listening to the introductions before the first wave’s start. When it was my turn, I walked straight ahead into corral 9 and went to the front of it, continuing to get antsy and excited. Because of the slope of the road and the mass of life, I couldn’t see much ahead and had no idea how far away the Start line was. At 10:20, wave #2 started to move ahead and the corral ropes were all dropped. I moved with the mass, finally crossing the start line just after 10:25 am. There were so many people everywhere – from the runners themselves, to all the spectators lining both sides of the road. The energy was electric! This was everything people had said Boston was and I hadn’t even started yet!

            My goals for the day were ambitious – in hindsight, too much so. I thought I could come close to 3:30, or at least break 3:35, with a PR (sub 3:41:15) as the back up B goal.  (They are probably still reasonable goals for a different course). I had heeded the advice, I was not going to go out too fast and drain all my energy in the first many miles. I had printed out and attached to my wrist a pace band from mymarathonpace.com for 3:30 (8:01 pace). I followed it fairly faithfully until about mile 16.

1-    8:23

2-    8:04

3-    7:50

I was not going to rush out the gate. I’m not sure it would have even been a possibility. The road was congested, very, very congested. You had to pay attention over the first several miles to be sure you weren’t tripping over people. I was focused on my footing, keeping my pace in check, and soaking in the crowds of spectators and their energy. I was already weaving and bobbing quite a bit to maintain my pace. I was told to be sure people are passing you in the beginning; yet I was the one passing (my starting corral was for a 3:40-3:43 finish, so I knew my pace would be quicker than those around me based on my goal). First 5K in 25:12 (8:10 pace); right where I wanted to be.

4-    7:46

5-    7:52

6-    7:48

Keeping it steady and comfortable, looking at the sights. I made sure to get water or Gatorade at every aid station to stay hydrated, and started taking in 2 power gel blasts every 5 miles. I grabbed items from the more congested right side of the course because that hand seems to be more effective. I did run most of the course along the right edge of the road, as it allowed me to pass easier at times and kept me most in touch with the crowds. The course is all rollers. I don’t like rollers. I passed Jen just before the 10K mark. She looked to be keeping a steady pace. I wished her well and went on. 10K in 49:56 (2^nd 5K in 24:35 7:55 pace); still on target with where I needed to be.

7-    7:43

8-    7:57

9-    7:54

10-  8:02

My pace was maintaining, though the sun was bright and I was starting to overheat a bit. I was wearing a tank and shorts, so there was no option to remove anything. At some point, I had to take my sunglasses off as I was sweating too much to make them practical.  15K in 1:14:46 (3^rd 5K in 24:50 8:00 pace), with the 10 miles in 1:20. I was steadily picking up a bit of pace to make up for the purposely slower start.

11- 8:04

12- 7:52

13- 8:01

14- 7:47

All along the course, the crowds were phenomenal. People were cheering and yelling. They had signs of encouragement. (Note to self for the next Boston: ink your name on your body somewhere – they will rally for you the whole course).Little kids offered up added fluid, twizzlers, oranges, jelly beans. People were having huge parties in their front yards. I wanted to join them! Sure I was having fun and having the time of my life, but I was also working my ass off! I finally approached the infamous Wellesley College scream tunnel. The girls were energetic, loud, and full of fun signs (the most in any single section of the course). I started to get even more excited, with this putting a spring in my step. All the “kiss me, I’m…” signs were fantastic! I grabbed 3 kisses – 2 blondes, one brunette. I needed the classic Boston Marathon experience and I had it! As I headed out of the college towards the half way marker, I felt like the energizer bunny – it was surreal how enjoyable such a physically draining activity could be. I didn’t even lose any time on that mile! Through the 20K mark in 1:40:05 (4^th 5K in 25:19 at 8:09 pace). Through the half in 1:45:26; only a few seconds off the goal.

15- 8:14

16- 7:54

17- 8:29

 

I knew the hills would be approaching soon after I left Wellesley and headed into Newton. I rather dislike hills and am a poor hill runner (though not as bad in this regard as I might have been a year ago). I was getting a  bit anxious between the impending hills and the fact that it was still too warm for me, warmer than the forecast had predicted (I thrive at 40 degrees, not 60). Sometime in the 16^th mile, I passed by the freeway sign for Providence – snapping a picture. I figured I would get emotional here (where I was born, where my family is from, including my father who passed away a year and a half ago). However, my emotions on course were mainly excitement and a bit of nervousness, not so much the tears that I have come across in other races (which I had before and after the race mainly). At mile 17, my family was out cheering. Saw my husband, cousin, and daughters; patted my youngest on the head and kept plowing down the road. My aunt and uncle were there as well, though I failed to see them (thinking they would only be at mile 25) and they were apparently being blockaded by a couple of rude spectators. This provided a nice boost, though from my time, the hills had started to set in. Through the 25K mark in 2:05:18 (5^th 5K in 25:13 for 8:06 pace).

 

18- 8:44

19- 8:15

20-  8:38

21- 9:31

The Newton Hills were manageable in the grand scheme of things. I was just focused on getting up each hill and not walking, though I knew I would slow my pace some. I am still not a hill runner, but did my best to power through them. Ice offered by spectators at mile 18 helped me get through them, helping to cool my overheated body down enough to propel myself forward without dropping too much time. And now I know why they call it Heartbreak Hill – it’s a tough one, going on for as long as the eye can see. I wanted more signs to signal it’s onslaught, but there were few. Though I knew approximately where it should be on course and was convinced I was on it (if there had been a tougher one, I didn’t want to know). I continued to run, passing some who had dropped off to a walk. 9:31 for the mile wasn’t anything to write home about, but I had conquered it and was down to the final stretch. Through the 30K mark in 2:31:37 (6^th 5K in 26:19 for an 8:28 pace). Through mile 20 in 2:43, a couple of minutes off where I wanted to be.

22- 8:05

23-  8:45

24- 8:46

I heard if you save energy at the start, you can take advantage after Heartbreak Hill. I made a valiant effort, but it only lasted one mile… I think I fed off the energy at Boston College – they were unbelievably loud. No offense to Wellesley, but BC took the prize home for the loudest college cheering section, with it going on and on. There were some pretty drunk college kids, but even they were doing their best to cheer through their stupor. Then the downfall began. I was exhausted. I had little energy left in the tank as I approached the 23^rd mile. I tried to tell myself there was just a 5K left, but to little avail. My bladder had been ready to burst since the start, though every porta-potty I had passed on course had been occupied. I pride myself on my bladder of steel and on never having to stop for the restroom during a race, but the late race start and warm day for me meant I had a lot of fluids on board. Since I was starting to falter physically and suddenly saw 2 portapotties with green markers, I took the break to ease the bladder, making the rest of the race much more comfortable. Managing that mile at an 8:45 with a potty stop and walking through the aid station was impressive in retrospect. Many more people were walking by this stage of the race. My Garmin had started to act funny as I entered Brookline, losing satellite reception every mile for a brief juncture before getting back on course. I stopped looking at the watch much – I knew my pace was off, and when the watch showed 11-12 minute miles due to the lost reception, it wasn’t helping me much psychologically. I just had to keep digging deeper to finish the race. Through 35 K in 2:59:08 (7^th 5K in 27:31 for 8:52 pace). Through 40 K in 3:27:19 (8^th 5K in 28:11 for 9:04 pace).

My favorite corner in all of racing: Hereford and Bolyston.

 

25- 8:31

26- 9:00

Final 0.8- 6:51 pace

      I knew my family would be at mile 25. I think this kept me trudging along. I didn’t want to be walking when I passed them. I could see the Citgo sign in the distance when I hit mile 24, but had no energy to get out my phone to take a picture (I was afraid I would drop my phone, as that’s how my coordination felt at the time). I would walk through the aid stations then resume what felt like a slow shuffle. I was spent physically. I had given the course all I had, but it had beaten me up. My due respect to the course itself had set in; this is not the race for PRs. Fortunately, it had cooled off some, becoming more overcast when I hit Brookline with some wind in my face. I did not see my family until my husband called out my name. I gave a brief wave. My husband knew I was struggling; it’s obvious in the picture he took near the Kenmore station. I don’t think the course should have that underpass under Mass Ave at mile 25+; it’s a rather cruel joke; enough with the rollers, already. I had no idea how far I was out; the Garmin and I had long since parted ways and glancing at it proved to require too much energy. But then there were runners making a right turn ahead… what was the slogan I had seen so many times in the prior days? Right on Hereford, Left on Boylston! The Finish Line is on Boylston!! I took the right turn; yes, it was Hereford! Another quick left and I was on the magical road. The Finish line is so very, very far away when you get on Boylston. It’s there, but felt nearly out of my grasp as I was exhausted, I was drained. But this is Boston! This is the finish people talk about! The crowds were packed on both sides of the road 10-12 deep. They were loud, cheering for me and their family members, their friends, strangers, fellow marathoners, and runners. It was enough to propel me down the road. Thank you Boston for the experience of a lifetime!

 

Final time 3:39:27 (8:23 pace). Crossed the Finish Line at  2:05 pm. I had  a PR by 1:48; I’d take it. It was hard and I earned every second of that. Worst split I’ve recorded (since maybe my first marathon), running the back half 10:23 slower than the front half. My Garmin went long 26.8 miles (so at least a 8:11 there).

After the Finish line, you keep walking, up what seems like several blocks to get water first. I grabbed a water, but could barely stand up. I was dizzy and about to topple over. I grabbed a side barricade, but even that was not enough to steady me, plopping myself down on the sidewalk curb. My head was spinning. The volunteers were gracious, encouraging me to drink the water, offering to get me Gatorade. The Gatorade helped some. I still wasn’t feeling fantastic. But they said I needed to keep moving or they would have to take me to the medical tent. I wobbled up and staggered along to grab some more fluid and food; I really did not want to have to go the medical tent. Not the way I wanted to complete my first Boston! As I shuffled with the mass of runners, volunteers provided a heat sheet, which was much appreciated as my temp was dropping and a wind tunnel was being created down Boylston. This is where I started to feel emotional again, tears streaming down my face that I had run my first Boston and that it had been everything I could have hoped for as a runner. My thoughts drifted to my father, wishing he could have been in Boston with me for the special occasion. I squeezed through the throngs of people to make it to the buses to pick up my gear check bag, pulling on some warm clothing, then walking the few blocks back to the hotel. Once at the hotel, I took a picture of myself for Facebook, wearing my medal, and posted the image. Time stamp on the picture: 2:50 pm 4/15/2013.

 

The After

            Everyone knows The After, or what they saw on TV, when the experience of a lifetime exploded at 2:50 pm. My husband and kids were a couple of blocks away, walking back to meet me at the hotel. My 10 year old thought she heard thunder; my husband advised her it was likely just a truck. They joined me in the hotel room, not knowing what was going on. We found out what happened when my cousin called to make sure we were okay (he had been spectating and was hanging out near Boston Common, finding things to do until a planned dinner in a few hours). We turned on the TV. It’s been hard to turn everything off since. We spent the rest of the evening in our hotel room a short distance from the Finish Line, with the rest of the family in town joining us as all public transportation nearby was halted. We would hear  “thunder” what seemed like every 20-30 minutes for hours (controlled detonations by the police), along with repeated cacophonies of sirens. I am thankful we were together and we were all safe. The outpouring of concern from family and friends was overwhelming.

Hotel room celebration with the family while on lockdown.

 

            So many “what ifs” went through my mind then and still do. What if I had been slower? What if I had told my family to spectate at the Finish Line instead of at mile 25 (I figured a mile out would be less hectic)? What if my husband and kids had taken a different detour on their way back from mile 25? What if the bombs had occurred the day before during the 5K? I was spectating there. We were in that store on Friday. And then I feel the grief for all of us, for the runners, the spectators, those who never finished their dream race, those who will never walk or breathe again. I am angry. I am sad. I am overwhelmed with emotions. These were not the emotions I was supposed to be having. I want some joy back.

            I know this is terribly long, but I need it. I need to write and get out everything I’ve held in for the past week. Maybe it will help me to start healing. Maybe it will help me to stop randomly crying. I didn’t consider revisiting Boston in 2014, but I might have to… that too might be part of this journey.

all in for boston

The next morning, putting on my 2013 jacket for the first time: I felt nothing but ambivalence about it
 (which is why that's not my usual smile).