Hi all. This is a little long so you can
delete
with wild abandon. The short story is, I ran, I almost
died (or didn't
finish), ran more slowly, and I
finished. I got my medal, I lived
my
dream,
and that is all there is.
Now the other side of the story...
Well, what can I say that hasn't already
been said about the long journey
home from Hopkinton to Boston on
Monday? As most of you know, I ran
for
Brigham and Women's Hospital (Team
Brigham) and I posted a few years ago
in
my bio that running Boston was THE BIG
DREAM of my life. I started
running
about 9 years ago (late by some
standards) and have done marathon runs
before (MCM and a solo 27-miler in Cape
Hatteras one year just for grins).
I always try to run with self
deprecation, a bit of self-humor, knowing
that
I will never win any prize, but with
good humor because this was an area
where my intensely over-achieving and
competitive nature is easily held at
bay. I run in awe of people who can pump out 5 minute miles when
I know
maintaining a speed like that means my
body would just fall apart, no
question about it. Because I am not built for long
distance running, I
have
always looked at it as a personal
challenge, never really caring what
people
thought, because in my opinion, if they
looked down on that, well, they
had
no sense of humor, right?
When I found out that I had a shot at
running Boston, I screwed my head on
straight, all humor and laughter went
out the window. I trained
differently. I ran long runs on hills right on the course, I trained at
marathon pace, I had everything I needed
to do down just right - when to
take GU, when to take salt, when to
hydrate, when not to, how to monitor
myself. I trained right for this race. I trained well.
I knew from my
training that I could make a 4:30 or
4:45 finish if things went well. I
approached this race with reverence and
I am still filled with the wonder
of
it all.
I traveled out to Hopkinton via a luxury
chartered bus provided by
Partners
Health (I think). It was interminable. We finally got there and made it
to
the home of one of the architects that
had been doing a lot of work with
BWH. He and his family opened their home to us which was across
from the
Town Common and right next to the start
line. We had our own tent, food,
portalets, and free reign of their
downstairs which kept us all warm and
tidy until the start. I had twinges in my left lower back
which had
started
on Sunday and didn't appear to be
leaving. I stretched and tried to
relax.
Soon it was time to get in line. My number put me in the last corral,
right
before the bandits (many of them we all
know are just shy of qualifying or
could but refuse to in protest -
whatever). Not a good position,
really.
Especially when you are going down a
hill and up a hill to the corral,
which
meant you had to go down a hill and up a
hill before you ever reach the
start. YIKES!
The race started and it took me about 17
minutes to cross the start. I
was
immediately passed by the fast bandits
(I never knew there were so many of
them). The hip kept twinging and I knew that if it didn't stop, I
would
be
in trouble. The crowd was so loud and large that I had sensory overload
-
the overstimulating was getting my
adrenaline going, and my heart rate
started elevating and I could get it to
slow down.
By Mile 3, I still had not found a
rhythm. I was having trouble with
the
lower back and my hips were tight. Then the bear that had been nipping
around my butt crawled up on my
back. I knew I was in trouble so I
adjusted
my goal. At mile 5, the adrenaline surge I had felt left me feeling
as if
I
had already run 10 miles. That bear was hanging on - wasn't gonna
let go,
and wanted me to carry it all the way to
Boston. I adjusted my time again
and thought, Okay, I can make this in
about 4:45-5:00. It didn't help
that
I had felt the sun beating on my back
from the very beginning and although
I
was sweating buckets, I couldn't get
cooled down. I took a break at one
of
the water tables to wash down my arms,
legs, face, neck, any exposed
surface.
Around mile 10, I adjusted my time again
to a 5:15 finish. Especially
when
the Blues Brothers passed me around
then. These guys weren't even
wearing
running shoes and they had on suits, for
crying out loud! That was really
demoralizing. By this time, I had slowed
down and started power walking
alot. The left hip that was twinging before the race started, was
causing
a
series of muscle spasms in my left lower
back and I knew I was
compensating
so it was only a matter of time before
my right side started hurting. I
hit
mile 13; only 13 more to go. Did I mention the BIG buy in the
ballerina
tutu and funny rabbit ears that I chased
all the way?
I remember seeing Natick, then all of a
sudden I was in Wellesley. The
Wellesley girls were amazing. They were everything I had ever heard
about
them. By the time I got there, the crowds had thinned but I heard
them
before I got there. But they more than made up for it. The noise was
incredible and they made me cry. They made eye contact with me. They
cheered for me. They yelled and waved and gave me
everything they had.
I
thanked them and I was amazed.
I went on and turned right on Comm Ave. The first hill was fine. I made
it
to the top. The second hill was interminable and I walked the first part
of
the it. I alternated running down the hills with walking up the
hills.
Lisa Port White called out my name and I
was so happy to see her. I waved
and silently dedicated that mile to her
and Malcolm. I hit
Heartbreak
hill. At mile 20, I thought, "6 miles to go." If I walk the rest of the
way, I can make it." I was checking my watch. I finally hit BC. I
remember my friend Joe telling me to be
careful because some of the cups
had
beer in them. By the time I got to BC, I was slowing down and walking
alot.
At mile 21, I thought, "6 more
miles to go. If I walk, I can
still make
5:45." My right side had started to spasm and I thought,
"okay, mile 22,
6
more miles to go. If I walk, I can still make the 6 hour
cut off."
Something funny going on here?? Hardly. I had had a brain meltdown! I
kept
thinking there was 6 miles to go!! One of the Team Brigham women was
having
trouble on the hill. I told her to walk. She said she had never
powerwalked before. I told her it was an amazingly
gratifying thing - it
allows forward motion without bodily
assault and it could get you where
you
were going really fast. We tried it together for a while.
I turned the corner after mile 22 onto
Chestnut Hill Ave and at the corner
of Chestnut Hill Ave and Beacon Street,
where I had to take a left, I saw
my
friend Harriet waiting for me, her
bright pink hat shining in the sun.
As
I
got closer, I also saw another running
buddy and good friend, Mary
Demattia
who had come from Michigan to run this
race. She had qualified 3 years
ago
but due to a series of mishaps and
conflicts, she had had to defer her
entry. She had waited for me so she could run me in. I looked at her
and
said, "Mary, you should go on. I don't want to hold you
back." She said,
"what are you talking about? We can
walk and make it." I looked
at her
and
said, "no, if we don't make the 6 hour
cut off, we won't get a medal and I
can't hold you back." She said, "What are you talking
about?" I said,
"we
have 6 more miles to go!" And she
looked at me and said, "Julia!
We have
a
little over 3 miles to go. We just left the 23 1/2 mile mark. We could
walk slowly and still make
it." But we trotted along and
she pulled me
through. We walked through the water tables, she waited patiently as
I
stretched out the worst of my muscle
spasms.
We ran down Comm Ave and took a right
onto Hereford. We walked UP
Hereford.
Yes, Hereford is a HILL. Some would argue that it is an
incline. But let
me tell you that after 26 miles, it is a
HILL. Anyone care to argue with
a
somewhat deranged, melted brain runner?
We turned the corner, left onto Boylston
Street, and Mary pointed out the
Finish Line. I looked and squinted.
The banner was tiny in the distance.
I
felt like some Twilight Zone episode
where you keep running and the Finish
Line sort of stays in the distance. Mary suggested we run it in. I said,
"nope. We are going to wait until
that light." We hit the light
and she
started running and I thought to myself,
Not this light, I meant the next
light. But I followed suit and ran after her. Mary and I parted a bit
so
that we could each have our own
finisher's photo. Well, I probably
looked
like hell. Can't wait to see this photo finish.
My mind was a total blank from the
beginning and for most of this race.
I
fell apart early and I know now that at
this distance on a course like
Boston, especially, it's not just about
the training. It's also about the
planetary alignments and the stars
lining up correctly. There are so
many
what if's and maybe I should have's that
go through my mind. I took GU as
scheduled at first, but shortly forgot
when I took the last one and got
off
track. I did stick to the salt packets which I started around mile
5 and
took every 4 miles. I took gatorade on and off but then got
off track of
that too. I remembered everything my friend Harriet told me though
about
how to look for signs of dehydration,
not enough salt in my body
(hyponatremia), too much salt in my body
(hypernatremia), a full belly of
water, a sloshing or empty belly of
water, etc. I cannot believe that
I
had
some semblance of mind to do this. I also took some orange slices from
the
kids on the road. She is convinced that if I had not
managed to maintain
some control on where and what I was
doing, that I would have ended up in
a
medical tent somewhere. She had been monitoring my progress
through my
husband who had been calling her with my
splits, so she knew I was in
trouble based even before I knew I was
in trouble, I guess. She's a
doctor
so who am I to argue with her? :o)
This was the single most horrible race I
have ever run. It was the WORST
by
any measure of the imagination. My time came in at 5:21:10 officially.
30-45 minutes over my target time. This
is the slowest time I have ever
had.
But, you know what? I finished, with 39 minutes to spare.
BUT, it is also my crowning glory. This is my highest achievement and it
was my PROUDEST moment ever in crossing
ANY finish line. EVER. I know
what
I went through to get to the
finish. As Joe Bator told me,
"At some point
it's not about speed. Speed is relative. Everyone who runs Boston,
whether
they qualified for Boston or are running
for Charity, has a story to
tell."
Well, I know the pain I endured and I
now know what a bad day feels like.
But I did it and fulfilled a dream and
no matter how I got there, I fought
the brave battle against myself and I
won. And that damn bear got a free
ride after all!
Would I do it again? At the Hospitality House there was a
sign up sheet
for
2002. I signed up. I
now know why they do this before the race, not
after!
Will I go through with it? Even after a day of rest and
contemplation,
feeling the aftermath aches and pains, I
don't know. But I can see the
allure of Boston and I can already feel its
tug for next year. What if I
trained in Hopkinton next year? That's the only part of the course I
hadn't
trained on. What if I started my long runs there? Who knows?
Okay, that's it.
Thanks for reading if you made it this
far.
Julia in Boston
Finisher, Boston Marathon 2001