Dear runners and friends,
I awaited the 109th Boston Marathon with mixed feelings. As usual, it is a
wonderful, world class event in our city, capping a weekend of camaraderie
among runners and, often, Red Sox fans as well. Warm weather has been an
added feature of the marathon (and the world in general), a mixed blessing,
but the sun sure feels good after so many months of cold, dark winter
training. Ah, the training. There was the problem. I'd fought a cold since
early March (right after Stu's 30K), and had done little training during
that time. I was apprehensive, but unwilling to miss the chance to run my
8th consecutive Boston and my 31st marathon. With my expectations adjusted
accordingly, I packed up my inhalers and headed to Hopkinton.
Mike Sheldon and I met up at the gate to the 12th corral, from which we
planned to pace each other to a steady run, hoping to reach Copley Square in
3:35. At 12:11 we crossed the start and, in fact, did maintain a steady pace
of 8:10, plus or minus 5 seconds for most of the race. The sun was
brilliant, the sky cloudless. I wondered briefly what the miles ahead would
have in store for me, but mostly I just enjoyed the run. Mike was great
company, and we shared marathon stories. (Mike will soon be running the
Olympic Marathon route, the same route Phiddipedes ran, from Marathon to
Athens.) Spectators along the route held signs indicating that the Red Sox
were already winning big. As we entered each town, the Adidas billboards
proclaimed a purpose behind that landmark ("Newton means Hope").
As Mike and I reached the Fire Station and turned onto Commonwealth Ave, the
start of the Newton Hills, we heard the first of the Winchester Highlander
cheering corps. Johnny Gerrein even ran with us up the first hill toward
City Hall. Past Newton Center, on Heartbreak Hill, we were urged on by Dave
Anderson and Michele Wolfe. Somewhere in there I saw Marsha Hogan and some
of the Shamrock Running Club. Into Cleveland Circle we went, still running
steadily. But now the shoe was on the other foot: Mike was leading me,
carrying me really. My legs were tired and tight, my heart rate remained
high. I sensed impending doom.
By Washington Square (23 miles) the wheels had come off the wagon. My legs
were cramping badly and I had to walk, much to the dismay of the cheering
crowds. I tried to jog without re-cramping. It was ugly. Eventually I loped
along, broken but willing, and slowly ran the final mile. My final 5K was
nearly 33 minutes, and I was grateful to finish (in 3:47:35). Such a
humbling end reminded me of how much respect the marathon distance deserves,
and how much I enjoy these challenges. Even the ones that don't go my way.
It was great to hear that Katherine Ndereba, one of the great runners of all
time, became the first woman to win a fourth Boston Marathon. As a champion
(at Boston, Chicago, Falmouth, or Beach-to-Beacon), she is as gracious as
she is fast.
Congratulations to all Boston finishers, especially you first-timers!