The marathon really started for me on Saturday: after a long time alone at the Expo, looking for familiar faces and finding none, I happened upon a strange and most friendly woman who was (like me) looking for men's shorts to wear, and (like me) was clueless as to the size to buy. After checking a couple of strangers' widths and inquiring what size they wore, I finally realized she was wearing a Dead shirt (duh?) ad it turned out she was Connie! Finally met Joolya and Harriet (who methodically tasted every single sample of Gu, Power Gel, or anything resembling edible materials in the booths) and proceeded to spend money buying new shoes (same brand, different model of my old ones). This will become relevant later.
The Dead dinner was amazing, not only the company (which was AWESOME), but the food: I did not stop eating pasta and salad the entire time I was there, not while twisting Joe Bator's arm to buy me a beer, not while bidding on the auction items, not while eating the desert that Jerry so kindly brought me (even as I was eating more pasta). Did I mention the food was good?
Sunday went quickly: After a quick bruch at Val's (most excellent coffe, bagels and lox), it started to dawn on me that I really was going to run a marathon. And not just a marathon, but the *Boston Marathon*. And that -once again- I was about to do that with (a) no training, (b) no common sense, (c) a leg with a "small tear" on the quad, and (d) 6 weeks after running the nasty L.A. marathon... But, hey, the same reasons had not stopped me before, so why ruin a perfectly good record of lack of marathon training? Sheesh... As an additional step up the Dangerously Stoopid category I decided to wear my new shorts, my new shoes, and a new running bra. After everyone that heard of my plan yelled at me, I decided to run with a tried and true bra. And with the new shorts and shoes.
Monday finally arrived. Dragged myself out of bed and into Cheryl's car. Her husband was unbelievably cool and collected as he drove us (both of us in the Bite Me Zone already, me with no caffeine in my system) to the place where we were to take Pam's bus (Pam was our Bus Guardian Angel). Joolya's wisdom and endless kindness (kissy, kissy, kissy) became apparent when we were able to remain in the bus (which had heating *and* a bathroom with toilet paper!) instead of waiting out in the tents. There is a God.
We got ready to walk to the starting line. Joolya's plan was for us to wait close to the start and 'jump in' when our numbers came by, rather than staring te marathon 2.8 miles beyond the starting line). Made sense. Julia, Cheryl, Pam, Daniel and I were ready to pounce when the 17000s came along and suddenly Julia and Cheryl disappeared (in a cloud of sulfur), and the three of us were left there, not knowing what in the heck to do (we had been following Julia around, you see? and she DITCHED US in the middle of the start!). I asked a guy standing next to me what his number was, and he showed me his cell phone. Did I need a pen to write it down? A bandit. Everyone is a comedian around here... He did help me over the barrier (which seemed impossible to jump over, at my 5'3), and off we went. The temptation to blast away was huge, but I was so mindful of the warnings ("whatever you do, don't go out too fast") that I dragged myself back. Made myself go slow. This was hard because the crowds were unbelievable, but easy because I lack the ability to blast away amnyway, and I like comfy paces... Frankly I was enjoying myself, although everyone passing me at the friggin' speed of sound was getting to be annoying. Especially when the people passing me were juggling, carrying enormous American flags, or Paul Riviere hats and wigs. Can you say "Ham"? I knew you could...!
Things were going nicely, and although I kept expecting my feet to start blistering and my legs to start chaffing from the new shoes and shorts (hey, if you expect disaster the worse that can happen is that you are proven right!), I was feeling fine. Go figure. Of course, my luck had to change at some point, and it did, just about mile something-or-other, when the sun came up in full splendor... bringing a blast of humidity with it. Suddenly everyone else was looking quite unhappy. Yeah, yeah, the silly co-eds offering kisses to the guys were a hoot, but where was the friggin' Boston Fire Department with big, buff, mustachioed firefighters offering kisses to the dames? That's what I wanted to know.
Quite suddenly (as it usually happens) I realized that my tried and true running bra was chaffing me. Badly. I just about body slammed the next vaseline guy I saw and proceeded to cover my chest and neck with Vaseline with most unattractive results. But really, at that point, who cares? The end was near(er) and I was still in the BMZ; I realized that I had actually gone over a looong hill. Could that be Heartbreak Hill? I had forgotten where that one was supposed to be, and I was not about to ask: "Hmmm... Excuse me, where do I find Heartbreak Hill...?" I don't think so. I still had my dignity, you see? So on I went, assuming that it was NOT Heartbreak Hill, and that IT would rear its ugly head soon. So I kept plodding along, passing more and more people (who were looking as broken as I felt), and suddenly I saw it: "Mile 25". After what seemed like an eternity, another sign appeared: "One Mile To Go". Hmmm... Excuse me, wasn't that the 25th mile marker a hundred FRIGGIN' miles back???? I was finding those signs very annoying. Another appeared: "Mile 26" How long was this marathon anyway???
Finally, the finish line was there, and it was over, and much to my surprise I had a PR. Go figure. As I said, there is a God. I walked around in a daze, wrapped in two space blankets, waiting for anyone familiar. [insert sad violin music here] I had just finished Boston and there was nobody to hug... After changing clothes and waiting I finally saw Cher (who was still in the BMZ), and soon after Daniel. Joolya had apparently been swallowed by the earth or had decided to ditch us (again?). Cher's hubby came to the rescue and we all departed for the subway stairs (yeeeowww!)
and our respective hot showers.
To the naysayers that booed my new shoes and shorts idea: nah-nah-na-na-nah
To anyone that hasn't yet done Boston: You'll fall in love when you do.