I won't go into a mile-by-mile rehash of my race yesterday. Suffice it
to say that I am disappointed in the result, but not the experience.
Former Boston Marathon champion Bill Rodgers said after the race that
in endurance sports, weather plays a significant factor. More than in
other sports because the athletes are working so hard in the elements
for a long period of time with no break to recover, like football or
baseball athletes for instance.
And so what is for most people a gorgeous day (71 and sunny), for a
marathon runner can feel like a difficult trudge under a beating sun.
And so on a warm, windy day, the world's best did not run as fast as
they might have in better weather.
I have to admit, however, that I really didn't notice the heat or the
headwinds. I had a lot of other stuff on my mind.
I was running well through the half-way mark, enjoying the crowds, the
miles through Boston's suburbs, and was on track for a 2:47:00
marathon, which would've been a new personal best. I knew it and I
felt pretty good. I was just holding back as much as I could so that
I'd have some gas in the tank after the major hills from miles 17- 21.
But around mile 13, I got a migraine headache.
If you have never had a migraine, it's hard to explain. I'll tell you
what mine feel like. Usually, I know they're coming on when I start to
see blue spots and lightening bolts. They are amoeba-like blue spots,
right in the center of my sight. I can see things around them, but I
can't see through them.
When this happened, I didn't want to believe it. I've never had a
migraine while running before. I didn't think it could happen because
my body was pumping blood so furiously, that the vessels couldn't
possibly constrict to the point they'd cripple me with a severe
headache.
But after a few minutes, and dropping a few water cups that I couldn't
see to reach, I realized that I must be seeing the onset of a migraine.
My migraines usually operate in a fairly predictable pattern. First
the migraine aura (blue spots and lightening bolts) then those
disappear and there is nothing for 20-30 minutes.
Then the pain sets in.
The pain is hard to describe. If you've ever had a charlie horse or a
leg cramp, imagine that pain stretching from your neck to the top of
your head. And it lasts for about two hours. Normally, I also feel
like throwing up, and I'm highly sensitive to noise and light. The
only thing that helps me is to take my prescription and lie down with a
pillow over my head until it passes. If I'm lucky, can fall asleep
before the nasty stuff, allowing the medicine to kick in before the
pain.
Well, at mile 14 of the Boston Marathon that clearly wasn't going to
happen. So, I started plotting the possibilities.
I thought: "If I have 20 minutes before the pain, I can run more than
three miles. I'll be at Mile 17 or so. If I can sustain for another
20 minutes of the beginning of the pain, I'll be at mile 21. That's
past the hills. Then if all hell breaks loose, I'll only have five
miles to suffer."
My migraine wasn't playing along. In Mile 15, the pain kicked in. I
didn't get my usual 20 minute break between the blue spots and the
pain.
I could see again, so I just grabbed almost anything offered by the
spectators (orange slices, sponges, water) hoping that by drowning
myself in cool fluids, I'd be okay.
Well, it was miserable. The cheering throngs and bright sun that I
normally thrive under were more of a torment. I started losing several
seconds per mile. I slogged up the Newton Hills and was reduced to a
walk. Several walks. Several long walks.
I walked most of the down hills because the pounding of each step was
too painful. I ran uphills because it was more tolerable.
There was little point in dropping out of the race. I just don't do
that. I qualified for this event, dammit. Besides, medics wouldn't
have medicine for me. They wouldn't be willing to cart me home to my
Imitrex and my bed. They'd take me to the finish line medical tent
where I'd be even further from home, medicine and my bed.
So, I ran/walked on.
Somewhere around mile 21, I noticed a blister under my left foot.
This, too, was painful, but to be quite blunt, it just pissed me off.
What an insult! I determined to squash down on the foot and twist
until I felt the blister pop. I'm sorry, but there's no *#@$-ing
blister that is going to keep me from finishing. With that out of the
way, I plodded on until I got to the finish in 3:04:46. 854th place.
Had I held on to my 2:47:00, I'd have been with the 15th overall woman
(who took home a $5,000 check for her effort). I would've been in
184th place with a guy named Yuko Sato. Even if I'd run my previous
best time, 2:48:29, I'd have wound up 206th.
All of which is very humbling.
I could list the reasons I am disappointed in the resuts. But I need
to explain why I'm not disappointed with the experience.
See, none of that is why my Boston Marathon is no big deal.
The marathon starts at noon, but at 11:30 they start "mobility
impaired" athletes. These are usually people who've lost a limb or who
are blind. I passed one of these guys in the last few miles, which
sort of put my migraine in perspective. I know my migraine (which is
lingering in my neck even as I type this) will eventually go away.
That guy I passed, lost his leg from the knee down. He was running on
a prosthetic made especially for running. He's never getting his leg
back.
Even more inspiring was something that happened before the race. I was
approached by a guy on the team for which I run. He asked me to sign a
card for a fellow teammate. I said, "I don't know him, why would you
want me to sign this card?"
The guy explained that it was a "live for the moment" card for another
member of our team. He wanted all the team members to sign, even the
new guys like me who don't work out with the team. I think he said the
card was for a man named Dan Patterson. He pointed him out, and when I
looked, I saw Mr. Patterson talking to another runner. He looked tired
and gaunt, but he was smiling. Then I noticed that his white t-shirt
was flapping in the breeze and with a sudden, kind of embarrassing,
feeling, I noticed that he was missing his right arm.
My teammate with the card explained that Mr. Patterson has been
battling malignant melanoma for about a decade. And after it went in
and out of remission several times, it apparently came back with a
vengence this winter. Mr. Patteson had been diagnosed with Stage 4
melanoma and he had to have his arm amputated in January. Eight weeks
before this marathon, Mr. Patterson had his arm amputated, yet there he
was, ready to embark on his 24th consecutive Boston Marathon.
I was told he thought of the surgery as a "speed bump on the road of
life."
This attitude struck me as remarkable. I thought about him on the bus
ride to the start in Hopkinton. I thought about him when I saw him in
the athletes' village prior to the start. And then I forgot about him
until my migraine set in.
I figure that if Dan Patterson can run the Boston Marathon with a body
full of cancer, and if I have to CATCH UP to a guy who lost half of a
leg, then I can damn sure get to the finish line with a migraine.
I might never run the Boston Marathon ever again. Who knows? I
definitely have a great experience to recall. The more I think about
it, the more positive stuff I recall about the spectators who lined the
course and who cheered me on, not knowing why I was walking so much.
There were so many little moments of interacting with other runners.
There were the girls at Wellesley College. There were the little
children holding out there hands, hoping the runners would give them a
high-five as we went by.
As I was walking (limping) home with my ever-supportive wife, Sara, we
took a shortcut through the Prudential Center. There's a shopping mall
on the main floor. The runners were pretty easy to pick out because we
were draped with foil blankets and wearing our shorts and finishers
medals. A little kid walked up to me with a small, brown autograph
book. "Will you sign this for me?" He was so cute.
I said, "Me?" He nodded his head.
So, I asked him is name. "Kyle," he said.
And I signed: "Kyle - I hope you run the Boston Marathon someday.
And I hope you run it faster than me. ~Frank Field PR: 2:48:29 Boston:
3:05:00"
I didn't have room to put down everything I wanted to tell him.