Boston was a different experience for me this year. Unlike in the past it
wasn't my number one priority. It wasn't all consuming, I trained for it, I
wanted to run well, but I didn't train for a PR or else.
My training was much more balanced with more biking miles then running miles
and a fair bit of swimming as well. I didn't know exactly what I would run.
I figured a PR could be possible or a 3:10 would be fine as well. Without
the pressure I was actually looking forward to the race. I had a simple
plan, start slow and pick it up if I felt good later. Don't chase the
rabbits. Don't run on the edge. I was actually happy my number was in the
5th corral. It would force me out slow. About a week ago the weather
predictions started coming in and it was even easier to relax and look
forward to what the day would bring. The weather would not be great.
Race morning I was remarkably calm. I walked the dog, put some laundry in,
and ate breakfast. I drove to the busses and found a great parking space. I
got on the bus and listened to some music and enjoyed the ride to the start.
At this point I had settled on virtually everything I would wear except my
socks. The internal debate was to wear my storm socks or not. I had worn
them on shorter runs in the past but never over 10 miles. The general
consensus of my running club was to go with regular socks. I ignored my
teammates and decided to wear the storm socks. They are fleece inside and a
neoprene exterior and they are warm and dry. I have stood in just these
socks in the snow and been dry and warm. Ultimately they worked out
perfect.
Now it was time to head to the start. We were stuck standing in a downpour
for 30 minutes. It was cold and windy and I made a plan. Try for 10 miles
in 70 and half in 1:31. Don't go hard early. Run in the center of the
road, tucked into the pack and avoid the puddles in the road. As the start
neared it was becoming clear to me that I would need to take a pee break at
some point early on. Finally the gun was fired and well we stood there,
about a minute later we started walking, after about 2:30 we were on our
way.
My plan for the early miles was simple. Don't chase, stay in control, hide
in the pack, run in the middle of the road to avoid the puddles. Mile one
came in 7:20. I smiled. Mile 2 came in 7:04, perfect. I was just rolling.
Starting to warm up and settle in. Occasionally I would move from one pack
of runners to the next tucking in to block the wind. Mile 3 was 6:50. I
said to myself, no faster.
Mile 4 came in 6:50 and during mile 5 I finally made the quick stop I needed
at the start. I lost 40 seconds and the mile was 7:44 followed by 6:54.
Perfect. Somewhere in these miles I took some Gatorade and my stomach
instantly complained. I remember last year having stomach issues from the
Endurance formula but I practiced with it this spring and didn't have any
problems. I decided to stick with water (plus Hammer Gel and later a
succeed cap)
Mile 7 was a little quick at 6:47 but I dialed it back to 6:52 then 6:50 and
6:45 to hit 10 miles in 1:10:11. I had a big smile. I felt like I had not
even been running. My stomach was still a bit off but my legs felt great. My
feet felt great. The storm socks were fine. My body felt totally relaxed I
felt like I was running completely in control.
I said okay only one 7 mpm the rest of the way, maybe heartbreak, maybe
somewhere else. I slowed a little for Mile 11 and ran 6:58. Heading into
Wellesley I could hear the din of the Wellesley woman and sure enough they
were out in force. Mile 12 was a bit faster in 6:47 and mile 13 was 6:58. I
hit the half in 1:31, over 3 minutes slower than last year. Mile 14 was
6:59, I was rolling along. Mile 15 came in 7:10 which was a surprise. I
thought now is not the time to slow down.
I picked it up and hit Mile 16 in 6:57. Although this was better it should
have been faster coming down the big hill into Newton. It was also time for
the head wind to really start making its' presence felt. It was most
noticeable as cups were blowing across the road like they were a man made
river. I also was starting to get the first twinge in my legs of cramps and
my stomach still was tight. I took a salt tablet and pushed on to mile 17 in
7:35. I tried to keep working and keep the cramping at bay running up 18 in
7:49. This is the part of the course I know very well and I press on
starting to think relentless forward motion. Mile 19 is 7:52 and mile 20 is
8:13. I hit 20 miles in 2:23 and think I can still finish under 3:10. Keep
working keep moving forward. I am still passing people I crest heartbreak
in 8:58 and try to pick up the pace in the next mile.
I am making progress. Although I am cramping I am passing a few people and
I think just get to mile 22 and the finish will pull you in. It is weird in
addition to my legs cramping my right arm is cramping and my stomach is
still cramping. Who has their arm cramp up in a running raceÖ
About 20 feet from the mile marker it hits. My right hamstring stops
cramping and seizes up completely almost knocking me to the ground. I
literally can't move. I try stretching it and massaging it and hobble
forward to the medical station a few feet up the road. They ask if I want
to get in the bus. Not a chance. They try stretching it a little and open
up a spray can of Salon Pass and spray both hamstrings. A couple minutes
later I am moving again. I walk to the water stop (100 yards) grab a
Gatorade and a cup of water and dilute the Gatorade. I start moving forward
and I am on Beacon St. I run this road everyday. Relentless forward motion.
I will finish. I hit mile 23 in 20:43 (2 miles).
At this point it is keep moving. I make my way and reach 24 in 8:27 and 25
in 8:38. I have one mile to go. I am still fighting cramps everywhere but I
know I will finish. I turn on to Hereford Street and see my friend Abby. She
has missed me every year. This is the first time I have seen her. I smile
and wave. Next thing I know I am running under the finish. Boston #7 is in
the book 3:21:00. I don't have a qualifier for next year and I can't
imagine I will get one at Ironman. Maybe this is my last Boston I can't
imagine that it will be, but if it is it is one I surely will not forget.