Evening
Deads...
I
ran the Boston Marathon on Monday, my 19th marathon.
Short
and Sweet Version: 4:16 (chip
time) and a struggle from about 14
miles
onward. Somehow it was still fun.
The
Long and Salty:
First
of all, I have to publicly thank fellow dead Rich Lerman for
providing
the opportunity to be involved in this event. It is a wonderful
thing,
especially for a slow marathoner who lives and trains in Boston, to
run
Boston officially. Rich's gift
extended far beyond the four-plus hours
I
spent on the course. Over the past
two months, every time somebody asked
me
if I was running "The Marathon" (yep, its a real big deal here, even
among
non-runners), I was able to say "YES", and in my head thanked Rich
for
the chance to do that. Next year
it'll be back to the usual
explanation
of why I'm not running, but I had great fun with it this year.
So,
once again, Rich, Thanks!
As
for the VIP treatment, you'll have to see Rich's report, or join us for
a
long run sometime this summer....;-)
It
was a very strange race for me. I
was hoping to break four hours, my
usual
standard, and since I'd done two sub-fours last fall, it seemed
reasonable. My training was decent, though I didn't
rack up huge miles
because
I did several long XC ski workouts over the winter, in lieu of
running. But, I didn't miss any long runs,
though I did skip a few
mid-length
tempos due to weather and a busy work schedule. Nonetheless, I
had
5 or 6 18+ milers under my belt, including a 22-miler and a solid 20
mile
run at my intended marathon pace and felt as prepared as I could be.
Somehow,
though, I knew that maintaining nine minute miles over a full
marathon
would take something more than my best effort. I needed some of
that
illusive marathon-magic that sometimes comes from tapering, sometimes
from
great weather, sometimes from good karma, sunspots, a good day on Wall
Street,
or unseen seismic forces.
Once
the race got underway it felt really good to be running. The weather
was
nice, the crowds were spectacular, and, of course, the long steady
downhill
heading east from Hopkinton made everybody, including me, feel at
the
top of their game. I'd fallen in
this trap before, and run the course
enough
times to know better, but those early miles felt great. I wanted to
run
around 9:10s and was doing 8:50s.
And I just could not slow
down. Around seven miles, I started walking
at the water stops, just
trying
to rein myself in.
This
worked for a bit, but when I was running, I was still running faster
than
I should. I knew my legs were
taking a beating on the subtle
downhills
and around ten miles (WAY too early) I could feel it.
I've
only run Boston once before, in '97, but I've volunteered and
spectated
from many different locations and the crowds this year seemed
especially
amazing to me. The crowds were
huge and loud everywhere, at
least
from my vantage point. It was
unbelievable. Wellesley College
totally
blew me away. After passing the
huge throng of wild, cheering
women,
I had a strong inclination to turn around and run past them a couple
more
times, perhaps many more times, running my own Wellesley Marathon and
then
jumping on the train. But I
carried forth, eastward...
Around
14, I realized that along with my legs feeling trashed (WAY too
early),
my lower back was really bothering me.
This was not good and I
stopped
to stretch as best I could a few times.
I'd hit the halfway point
at
1:57:xx, and knowing a negative split was not going to happen, I didn't
even
bother recording my splits or watching the clock the rest of the
way. I was just concerned about finishing
and was resolved not to log my
first
DNF. I figured I could walk in if
I had to and finish before dark.
But
I kept running and focused on getting to the next mile marker or water
station,
where by now I was taking liberal walking breaks. The long
downhill
heading into Newton Lower Falls really chewed me up, but I was
encouraged
to cross Route 128 and make the turn at the fire station.
Like
many Boston runners, I train regularly on this part of the course. I
don't
know if that helped or hurt. I
knew precisely where all the hills
were,
each turn, and how the weather sometimes changes east of Heartbreak
Hill. Apparently, going uphill was not my
problem Monday, as all three of
the
"big" (they really aren't that big) hills felt good to me. I didn't
walk
on any of them, though I was not running fast either. I was more
concerned
about the downhills.
Someplace
around 17, a very enthusiastic volunteer at a water stop stepped
right
in front of me (I was walking at the time), thrusted a cup of
gatorade
in my face and said it would "pick me right up!". Ugh! Get away!,
I
thought, as I pushed past him. My
stomach wasn't feeling too good and I
hadn't
even taken any GU since about 11 miles.
But, I also was feeling
pretty
weird, something beyond the usual tiredness and soreness, sort of
spacy
and disassociated from myself and the crowds and all. At the next
water
stop, I took some diluted gatorade and I actually felt a little better.
At
Heartbreak, I just put my head down and ran (ran?, jogged?, slogged?, I
dunno,
but I didn't walk). I'd done these
hills too many times to let them
do
me in today. But, on the downhill
side of Heartbreak, I walked the
whole
thing. I felt kind of stupid
walking in front of the raucous BC kids
(almost
as loud as the Wellesley crowd, but not inspiring...they are just
looking
for BC chums to cheer), but I knew running this downhill would be
my
downfall. Even though I felt like
I was on home territory now, (running
straight
to my actual home is about the same distance from Cleveland Circle
as
the finish line) I also knew there's a long way to go from here. Though
I
took no pleasure from seeing other runners around me seize up with cramps
on
the flats of Beacon Street, I was glad I walked that long downhill.
Once
of the good things about the Boston course, at least for me, is that
the
Newton Hills take your mind off the miles. You just focus on getting
up
each hill and by the time you're done with Heartbreak its 21 miles.
So
mile 22 came pretty quickly. I
thought back through the day and
determined
I actually did feel better now than at mile 14 (and, boy I'm
glad
I'm here instead of there just now).
I actually ran a complete mile
from
22 to 23, without walking.
Somehow, I was feeling OK.
Yeah, I broke
down
and felt bad (WAY too early), but luckily my discomfort didn't
progress
and I was able to waddle on to the finish.
I
tried to enjoy the long stretch down Beacon, past Kenmore Sq, and making
the
long-awaited turn on Heresford as best I could. I finally picked my
head
up, looked for friends in the crowd, slapped hands, and realized I was
gonna
finish this damn thing. What a
great feeling!
Turning
from Heresford onto Boylston, I thought I heard many people yelling
at
me, but I'm not sure.
That
last long stretch down Boylston goes on forever, but I wasn't sure if
I
wanted it to end. Well, I wanted to
stop running, but I loved basking in
that
huge amazing crowd. No matter what
happened earlier in the day, those
moments
make it all worth the effort. My
only regret was not seeing or
hearing
my wife who was there at the finish line.
Overall,
a great experience, a great day, and I'm just slightly
disappointed
with my time. Any marathon finish
is a great thing for me,
but
this one is always special, regardless of finishing time.
Thanks
for reading this far...
Tim
in Jamaica Plain...
...still
way sore and relaxing, maybe an easy three miles tomorrow....